Early English Prose Romances: With Bibliographical and Historical Introductions

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I rh ■

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r

EARLY

ENGLISH PROSE ROMANCES.

VOLUME I.

EARLY

(gttjgtisfi §mt ^mmm,

WITH

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL INTRODUCTIONS.

EDITED BT

WILLIAM J. THOMS, F.S.A.

SECOND EDITION^ ENLAKGEO«

VOL. I.

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

THOMAS A READING.

FRIER BACON.

FRIER RUSJl

LONDON:

NATTALI AND BOND, BEDFORD STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.

1858.

f

PREFATORY NOTICE

TO THE SECOND EDITION.

The thirty years which have passed since the pre-
vious Edition was issued^ have wrought a great
change in the taste of the literary public.

The disappointment I experienced, when on the
completion of the third volume^ I found I had
somewhat misjudged the taste of the reading
world has however been mitigated by learning
from the Publishers of the present edition, that
the work has become so scarce and valuable as to
justify its being reprinted. The opinion as to the
rarity and intrinsic curiosity of these specimens
of our early Popular Literature which I held in
1827 ht^ ^b^s heen borne out, which after all is
no small satisfaction.

At the request of the Publishers I have now
revised the Introductions to the several Romances,
corrected some errors, and made such additions as
recent discoveries in the history of Popular Fiction
rendered desirable.

vi

VI PREFATORY NOTICE.

These Literary notices might have been very con-
siderably extended; but as the reader who is desirous
of further investigating the history of any particu-
lar Romance will find ample means of doing so by 1
consulting the various authorities to which I have
referred^ it did not seem expedient to enlarge the
volumes by converting these Introductory Sketches
into elaborate Histories.

WILLIAM J. THOMS.

December, 1857.

¥

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

The completion of this Collection of Eaxly
English Prose Romances^ presents a fitting oppor^
tunity for explaining in a more lasting shape^
than the Prospectus issned at the commencement
of the Work, the motives by which the Editor
was actuated^ when he determined upon the
undertaking; and the most influential of these
will be found in the intrinsic curiosity and in-
creasing rarity of these most interesting illustra-
tions of the manners and mode of thinking of
our Ancestors.

Of the Romances which, assume a metrical form>
the Collections of EUis^ Ritson^ Weber^ Utterson,
&c.— afford abundant and curious examples^ while
with the exception of such as have been introduced
into the Miscellanea Antigua Anglicana, no at-
tempt has been made to collect those scattered
specimens of popular fiction which ^sxist only in
prose. Of these ^' Waverley Novels*' of the olden

VIU PREFACE.

time^ which aflforded as much delight to our fore-
fathers as the writings of Sir Walter to ourselves,
and which in their day exercised the same influ-
ence over the National Literature which the pro-
ductions of the Master Spirit of the North have
done in ours, many are founded on traditions^
which have been handed down to us without the
aid of verse, and the Lyfe of VirgiKus, the most
extraordinary fiction which is contained in these
volumes, will be found a forcible illustration of
the truth of this assertion.

To remedy therefore the neglect with which
these contributions to that most curious and
speculative field of literary inquiry — the origin
and progress of Romantic Fiction, have been
treated, the Editor determined upon laying before
the public in a form accessible alike to the man
of letters, and the general reader, a collection of
the more rare and interesting of these productions,
and so to fill up the hiatus which has so long
existed in the History of English Literature.

How far and with what success this object may
have been accomplished, it is not for the Editor
to determine, but should one or two of the Ro-

PREFACE. IX

mauces now reprinted be deemed of less interest
than the generality of the collection^ the only
excuse which can be offered, is^ the extreme
rarity of works of this description^ the consequent
difficulty which the Editor had in procuring them,
and the necessity which he was under of paying
a proper regard to the amusement of the reader
and of selecting

'< Of all the Tales that ever had J)een told,
^ By homely shepheards, lately or of old:"

a succession of those most likely to please^ from the
diversity of their style and the varied nature of
their incidents.

These narrations have strong and deeply
rooted claims upon our affections^ for they were
the delight of those fi^m whom we spring — alike
the study and admiration of " Ladye Faire" and
gallant Knight^ and the never ending theme of
the shepherd and the husbandman : high and low^
gentle and simple^ found solace in their contempla-
tion ; their recital cheered the forsaken dam-
sel in her lonely bower, inspired the warrior with
a bright and chivalrous bravery, and gladdened
the hearts and roused the drooping spirits of the

VOL. I. b

X PBEFACB.

peasantiy^ who when the labours of the day were
at a close, gathered into an anxious circle round
the narrator, and caught with greedy ears the
tales of other days :

** Come sit we downe under this hawthome tree,
The morrowes light shall lend ns day enough.
And let ns tell of Gawen or Sir Guy,
Of Bobin Hood or of Old aem a Clongh.

Or else some Bomant imto ns areede,

By former Shepheards taught thee in thy youth,

Of noble Lords and Ladies gentle deede,

Or of thy Love or of thy Lasses truth."

Oaims such as these will not easily be gainsayed,
and the less so, that many of these tales have
delighted us in our childhood, and are endeared
to our hearts by the recollection of those sunny
hours, when deeply read in the mysteries of Bobin
Hood and Friar Bacon — we would, with the eager-

■

ness of childish admiration, gladly have forsaken
all our hopes and prospects, to dwell with the
bold outlaw and his merry men under the green-
wood tree — and have exchanged all the Baree
Shows of real life for one glance at the Friar's
wonderful perspective glass.

'' jSmlfben 3tiUi tot to |)ere
9ntl Yomani^ reVe in tiif^txi mature,"

PREFACE. XI

and so do children^ and those which mankind
receive from the faltering tongue of age, when it
would lull them to repose^ cling fondly and closely
to their hearts till their own tongues faltering
from the hke cause^ soothe the pillows of other
generations with their recital^ and while

'* From hour to hour we ripe and ripe,

** And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,**

these marvellous relations are handed down from
year to year and from century to century, till the
tale,* which amused the sons of Hengist and
of Horsa, exercise the same influence over the sons
of their descendants, who looking through the
mists of fading ages can scarcdy distinguish Hen-

* Tom Thnmb, who was originally of Scandinavian descent,
bdng the Thanmlin or little Thumb of the Northmen. The
German Damnerling, i. e, little Thmnb, like onr English worthy
is swallowed by a cow — and our nursery rhyme, " I had a little
husband no bigger than my thumb," probably commemorates a
part of Tom's Histoiy extant in a little Danish work, treating c^
** Swain Tomling, a man no bigger than a thumb, who would be
married to a woman three ells and three quarters long." Tom was
I buried at Lincoln, one of the five Danish Towns of England, where

a little blue flag stone in the pavement was long shewn as his mo-
nument, but which however has been displaced and lost. Many
curious speculations on Tom's connexion with the Brahminical
and Druidical Superstitions, will be found in the Quarterly Be-
view, vol. 21. p. 100-1.

Xll PREFACE*

gist and Horsa, from genuine heroes of romance
the creations of the ever- working brain of the
fabulist.

'^ A work of great interest/' says Sir Walter
Scott^ " might be compiled upon the origin of
popular fiction and the transmission of similar
tales from age to age, and from country to country ;
the mythology of one period would then appear
to pass into the romance of the next century^ and
that into the nursery tale of the subsequent ages /'
but the research demanded for the completion of
such a work would necessanly require the deepest
and most constant exertion : the materials^ though
plenteous^ are widely scattered abroad^ and the
labourer could scarcely hope to meet with an ade-
quate reward for the toil and anxiety which the
undertaking would entail upon him. What might
be the result of so curious an investigation it is not
easy to determine, but in all probability it would
be the discovery of some unvarying principles of
the human mind, which acting in a similar man-
ner in aU ages and climes, upon the more striking
occurrences of life, invest them every where with
the self-same attributes, and so give to those tales

T"

PREFACE. Xm

which bear unequivocal marks of being the chil-
dren of one mother, though habited in the costume
of the various lands in which they chanced to have
been bom^ an appeardnce of having been transmit-
ted from one age and country to another, while in
reality they have only a common origin, in the
feelings with which the natural facts on which they
are founded have been viewed, and the garb in
which they have been clothed, being the result of
some unchangeable tendency in the human intel-
lect, whether at Indus or the Pole.

A philosophical spirit of inquiry is however
abroad, and much elucidation of this interesting
topic may be expected from it ; the ihvestigations
of Mr. Douce in his Illustrations of Shakspeare,
the learned and amusing articles of Mr. Palgrave
in the Quarterly Review ; Mr. Dunlop's ingenious
History of Fiction ; the preface to the new edi-
tion of Warton's History of English Poetry ; Mr.
Crofton Croker^s Fairy Legends of Ireland, and
the Fairy Mythology of Mr. Keightley are valu-
able contributions towards the History of Ancient
Bomance: much however remains to be accom-
pUshed, and it is hoped that the shafts of ridicule
which may occasionally be levelled at the pursuit,

Xir PREFACE.

may fall harmless and unheeded, for to use the
-words of Old Copland^ " Methinke it is better to
passe the tyme with such a merry Jeste and laughe
there at and doo no Synne than for to wepe and
do Synne/'

It now only remains for the Editor to express
his thanks to those gentlemen without whose
assistance the work would have fallen far short of
whatever small claim to approbation it may at pre-
sent possess.

To Thomas Amyot, Esq., he owes many thanks
for the kind manner in which he exerted himself in
procuring for him an inspection of many volumes^
which would otherwise have been inaccessible to
,him.

To Edward Vernon Utterson, Esq., he is infi-
nitely indebted for the loan of many of the articles
with which this collection is enriched: and to
Francis Douce^ Esq.^ he is under considerable obli-
gations for similar favours^ and for the great kind-
ness with which he afiPorded his advice and assist-
ance to a new labourer in that fields which his
talents and research have made peculiarly his own.

1828.

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

1

ROBERT THE DEUyLL.

The Erench proi|e romance entitled, '' La vie du ter-
rible Bohert le Didble Uquel apres fut nommS Lomme
IHeu** was published in 4to. at Lyons, by P. Mare-
scball^ in 1496. It was followed by an edition published
at Paris, by J^ic. de la Biarre, in 1497, likewise in 4to.,
and which is equally scarce with the preceding; as
also by another edition in 4to. published at Paris, by
Jehan Herouf about 1520. It was reprinted in the
Bihliotheque Bleue, published at Liege in 12mo. 1787,
previous to which it had been printed at'Troyes, 8vo.
1716i with the title of ** La Terrible et merveillense Tie
de Robert le IHdble leqml apres jftit Somme de bien^^
a copy of which is in the British Museum, and corres-
ponds with the present version.

There also exists an early French Metrical Version,
which was published at Paris for the first time, under
the title of '^ La JRoman de Bobert le JDiable en vers du
XIH* SUcle, jpublie pour la premUrefois d'aprh les
Manuserits de la Bibliotheque du Boi, par G-. S. Trebu-
tien, Membre de la Societe dee Antiquaires de Nor«
mandie."

ZYUl PSEEACB.

The Editor^ after discossingat some length who is the
hero of the romance, inclines to the opinion expressed
by the ancient Chronicles of Normandy that he is the
son of a grand Signior named Aubest, and was first
Duke or GK)vemor of that province in the time of King
Pepin, the Father of Charlemagne, in the year 751.
This Aubest had a wife named Inde, sister of the Duke
of Burgundy, by whom he had a son called Bobert the
Devil, on account of the enormities committed by him
in the Forest of Bouveray, when he retired to the old
castle, the ruins of which were visible at the top of
Moulineux about three leagues &om Bouen, when the
worthy Sieur de Bras, Charles de Bouigueville, com-
piled his Mesearches into the Antiquities of J!^ormanchf.

On the other hand M. Achille Deville, one of the
most distinguished Norman antiquaries, who published
at Bouen, in 1835, an edition of the Mystere du Bobert
le Diahle does not hesitate to express his conviction
that the Bobert the Devil, so celebrated by the ro-
mancers and chroniclers of the middle ages, is no
other than Bobert Courte-Heuse the son of William
the Conqueror.

In the<14ith century the jongleurs were accustomed
to abridge and arrange in a form more easily to be
remembered and better adapted for recitation, the
longer romances of the preceding century, and to these

FBEFAOE. XIX

abridgments they gave tbe name^ of IHt or Dit6, a
name applied sometimes to compositions of a very
different cbaracter. The romance of Bohert le Didble
underwent this process, and in this new form it con-
sists of two hundred and fiftj-four strophes, each
consisting of four monorhymes.

The words of the old French Poem, edited by M. Tre-
butien, as well as the allusions it contains to tourna-
ments and the usages of chivalry clearly shew that it
cannot be older than the thirteenth century. The
foUowing specimen of the language may be of interest
to the reader.

*^ Ichi c5menche li Bomans de Robert le diable ensi

CO vous ores el liure."

Or entendes, grat et menor,
ladis al tans anchienor
Avoit . i. due en normandie
Dont bien est drois q ie t5 die.
Preudome ert et de grat lignage
Et si ayoit mlt' yaselage
Asses estoit hans bon et prous^
De ses annes cheyalerons.
Si baron de sa dnchete,
El point de son millor ae
li loerent si chevalier
Qne 11 preist femme et mollier.
Li dns bonement leor otroie
Et cMl se missent a la Toie.
Qne Tons feroie pi* lone cote

3QC PREFACE*

Une pnchele fille . i . cote

li ont si baro amene

Que il a piisse et espoasse

De lignage de grat afaire

Bele et gentilz et de boin aire, &c.

There is a French Morality in MS. '^ Comment il
fut enjoient d Bohert le Diahls^fih du Due de Norman'
die, pour ses Mesfaites de faire le foly sang parlez et
depuis N". S. eut merei de lui," — mentioned by Beau-
champs's Bech. Theat. de France^ p. 109» which doubt-
less refers to the same Eobert.

Of this extraordinary production two translations
into English have been printed ; one in verse which was
republished by Mr. Herbert, (8vo. 1798) from a MS.
formerly in the possession of Mr. Satcliffe, which
appears to have been transcribed word for word from
an edition by Wynkyn de Worde or P^nson, of which
Mr. Herbert had seen a fragment consisting of six
leaves.

This English Metrical Version is in eight line stanzas,
and commences as follows,

Ljsten lordinges that of mam^jles Ijke to heare,
Of acts that were done sometTme in dede
Bj onre elders that before ys were
How some in mjschieffe their Ijfe djd leade
And in this boke maj ye se yf that ye will rede
Of one Kobert the denyll, borne in Normandye,
That was as nengeable a man as myht treade
On goddes gronnde for he delyted in all tyranye.

PBETACE. ZZl

A Duke sometyme in Noimandje there was
Full nertuouB and deaonte in all hys lynynge
And in almose dedes, he yede in the way of grace.
Of Knightlye maners, and manfiill in instynge,
A Lordlye parsone, also conrtes in enery thynge
His dwellynge was at Naneme ypon sayne
At Chiystmas to hononre that holy tyme,
Open honseholde he kept, and to please Qod was fayne.

A feaste he helde vpon a certayne daye
Lordes come thyther of greate renowne
And as they sate at dyner a knyght gan saye
Vnto the Duke, and on hys knees kneled downe
My Lorde he sayd, ye be owner of many a towne
Yet have ye no lady, nor none heyre
After your dayes to reioyce your groonde
Therefore gett yone a princes that ys yonge and fayre.

The prose version was printed by Wynkyn de Worde,
and bears evident marks of being a direct translation
from the Erench^ and not, as was frequently the case,
a reduction of the Metrical Eomance. Of this prose
version there is a copy in the Garrick collection in the
British Museum, which was presented to Garrick by
Mr. Astell, of Yoxall, in Staffordshire. It consists, as
does the copy described by Ames, which is also by
Wynkyn de Worde, and extant among Bishop More's
books in the public library at Cambridge, (D. 5. 2.)
of twenty-nine leaves, but differs from it inasmuch as
a wood print of the Sun at the top of the page,
Wynkyn de Worde at the bottom, and his usual device

ZXU FBEFACE.

in the centre, is substituted in the last leaf for the
print of the Virgin with Jesus in her arms, in the
Cambridge copy.

An imitation or reprint of this translation was pub-
lished in 12mo. hj James Boberts, and in the same
year by K'icholas Ling, — see Serhert^s Ames, vol. ii. p.
1033 — vol. iii. p. 1341 : and in Bibh Bawlinsoniana,
No. 331, 22d Jan. 1727-8, is " The famous historical
lifo of Robert U. Duke of Normandy, sumamed for
his monstrous birth and beha/oiowr, Robin the DivelL
4to. London, 1599."

Whatever may have been the origin of this romance
it has obviously enjoyed a very large share of popular
favour. Besides the Erench and English Version to
which reference has already been made, this History
exists both in Dutch and Spanish. Mone in his Ueber-
sicht der Ntederl-andischen Volks-Literatur, mentions a
Dutch book on the subject printed in 1621 ; and in the
library of the British Museum is a Spanish edition in
4to. printed at Madrid about the year 1810 under the
title of '' ^spantosa y maramllosa Vida de Roberto el
IHablo, hijo del Dugue de Normandia, el cued despues
fuS llamado Sombre de DiosJ*^

Those who may be inclined to ^investigate at greater
length the history of this Bomance, to which additional
interest has been given by the fact of its forming the
groundwork of Meyerbeer's beautiful opera, are re-

PBBEAGB. ZXlii

ferred to La Revue de l^aria of July 1834, which con-
tains an article on the subject of Bobert the Devil
by M. A. Pichart : and to a criticism on it by M. de
Martonne in the sixth volume of the Memovrea de la
Society Royale dea jbitiquairea de France,

The romance of King Eobert of Sicily,* from
which copious extracts are to be found in the 2nd vol.
of the new edition of Warton's History of English
Poetry y and the old English Morality of Bobert Cicyl,
which was represented at the High Gross in Chester,
in 1529, are obviously connected with the hero of
the present Bomance. " Bobert of Cicyl and Bobert
the Devil," says the ingenious editor of Warton,
'' though not identical are clearly members of the same
family, and this poetic embodiment of their lives is
evidently the offspring of that tortuous opinion so pre-
valent in the middle ages, and which time has mellowed
into a vulgar adage that ' the greater the sinner the
greater the saint.' The subject of the latter was doubt-
lessly Bobert the first Duke of Normandy, who became
an early object of legendary scandal, and the transition
to the same line of potentates in Sicily was an easy

* The 59 Chapter of the Gesta Homanornm, contaimng the
Histoiy of the Emperor JoTinian, which has also been made the
subject of a French Morality, printed at Lyons from an ancient
copy in 1581, 8yo. with the title "L'Orgaeil et presomption de
rEmperenr Jovinian,** is nearly identical with this romance.

ZZIF FBXFAOB.

effort when thus supported. The romantic legend of
Sir Gowther, recently published in Mr. TTtterson's
Select IHeees ofJEkirly Fopular Poetry^ is only a differ-
ent version of Bobert the Deyil with a change of scene,
names, &c."

THE LYFE

OF

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

A iloiiiattce*

VEOX AN XDXnON BT IVTNKTM DB WOXDB.

ROBERT THE DEUYLL.

Here begynneth the lyfe of the moost myscheuoust
Eobert the Deuyll, which was afterwarde called
the seruant of G-od.

It befel in tyme past, there was a duke in I^ormandye
which was called Ouberte, the whiche duke was pas-
synge ryche of goodes, and also vertuous of lyuynge,
and loued and dred God above all fchynge^ and dyde
grete almesse dedes, and exceeded all other in ryght-
wysnesse and justyce, and moost cheualrouse in dedes
of armes and notable actes doynge. This duke helde
open house upon a Crystmasse daye, in a towne whiche
was called Naverne, upon the Seyne, to the whiche
courte came all the lordes and noble blode of Normandy.
And because this noble duke was not maryed, his lordes
nobles with one assente besought hym to marye and
take a wyfe, to thentente that his lygnage myght be
multyplyed thereby, and that they myght have a ryght

4 BOBEBT THE DEUYLL.

beyre to enberite his landes after his djsceyse* To the
wh jche request this good duke answered and sayd ;
** My lordes, what thynge that ye thynke best for me to
do shall be done, upon a condycyon, in that ye wyll that
I be maryed, that ye puruey me a wyfe accordynge to
myn estate, for and yf I shol coueyte ony heyre or
noblyer of blode than I am myselfe that myghte not
stand with ryght, and yf I take one that is not of so no-
ble an house as I am, that sholde be to me grete shame,
and all my lygnage ; wherefore me thynke it were better
that I kepe me as I am, than to do that thynge that
sholde not be myne honeste, and afterwarde repente
me." Whan these wordes were spoken, and well con-
sydered by the lordes that stode there present, then
there rose up a wyse baron, and sayd to the duke : ^* My
lorde ye speke very wysely,'and lyke a noble prynce, but
yf it please your hyeness to gyue audyence and here me
speke, I shall shewe you of a certayne persone of whome
ye shall enjoye yourselfe to here of her, and the whycho
ye shall obteyne I knowe well.'* Than answered the
duke, and sayd : "shewe me then who that persone is."
" Gracyous lorde," sayd the baron unto the duke, ** the
duke of Bourgone hath a doughter whyche excedethe
al other in beaute, curteyse and deboynayre wysdome
and good maneres, the whiche ye may have yf ye wyll
desyre her, for I knowe well there wyll no man say naye
thereto." To the whiche the good duke answered and
said, that bidy playsed hym ryght well, and that the
baron had gyven hym good and wyse counsell. Andin

BOBBBT THE DEUYLL. 5

shoite lyme after that, this lady was demaiinded of her
£Euier, the duke of Bourgone, which gaue hym her wyl-
Ijnglj. And then theyr brjdale was kepte honourablj«
which were to longe to write.

Howe the duke of Normandye with grete royalte
broughte his wyfe, the doughter of the duke of
Burgone, in to Boan in I^ormandye, after he had
maryed her.

Aeteb that the forsayd duke had maryed the sayd
ladye, he brought her with a grete company of barons^
knyghtes, and ladyes, with grete tryumphe and glerye,
into the lande of Normandye, and in the cyte of Boan^
in the whiche cyte she was honourably receyued, and
with grete melodye ; and there was grete amytebetwene
the Bourgonyons and the Normans^ which I lete passe
for to come the soner to my mater. The forsayd duke
and duchesse lyued togy der the space of xviii y ere with-
out any childe. Whether it were Godde's wyl it sholde
be so, or it were thrughe theyr own defaulte, I can not
juge, for it were better other whyle that some people
had no chyldeme, and also it were better for the fader
and the moder to gete no chyldren, thenne to lacke of
diastysynge, the chyldren and fader and moder sholde
al go to the deuyll : yet was this duke and duchesse
deuout people, which loved and drede God, and gave
grete ahnesse ; and what tyme this duke wolde meddle
with his lady, he euer prayed to God to sende hym a
chylde, to honoure and seme Gtod, and to multyply and

6 BOBEBT THE BETTTLL.

fortyfy bis lynage; but nother with prayer nor witli
almesse dedes this good duke and duchesse could gete
no chyldren.

How upon a tyme this duke and duchesse walked alone,
sore complanynge the one to the other that they coude
hare no chylde togyder.

Upon a tyme this duke and duchesse walked^ and the
duke began to shewe his mynde to his ladye, saynge,
** Madame, we be not fortunate in so much that we can
gete noo chyldren ; and they that made the maryage
betwene us bothe they dyde grete synne, for I beleue
and ye had been geuen to an other man, ye sholde haue
had chyldren, and I also yf I had an other ladye." This
lady understood hissayenge : she answered softly, saynge
thus: '' GFood lorde, we must thanke God of that whiche
he sendeth us, and take it pacyently of what so euer
it be."

How Bobert the Deuyll was conceyued, and how his
moder gaue hym to the deuyll in his concepcyon.

This duke upon a tyme rode oute an hountyng in a
grete angre and pensyfiiess, for thought that he coulde
haue no chylde, sore complanynge, saynge to hymselfe,
I see many women haue many fayre chyldren in whiche
they enjoy gretely, by which I se wel that I am hated of
Gk)d, and meruayle it is that I fall not in dyspare, for it
greueth me so sore at my herte that I can gete no chyl-
dren. The deuyll, which is alwaye redy to deceyue man-

BOBEBT THE VEITYLL. J

I[7nde, tempted tlie good duke, and troubled his mynde
•o that he wyst not what to do nor say. Thus moued,
he left his huntynge and wente home to his palayes,
where he fbunde his ladye also yexed and moued. As
he came home he toke her in his armes, and kyssed her,
and dyde his will with her, sayenge his prayers to our
Lorde in this wyae : *' ! Lord Jhesu, I beseche the
that I may get a chylde, at this houre, by the whiche
thou mayst be honoured and served." But the ladye
being so sore moued, spake thus folyshly, and said :
** In the deuyle's name be it, in so muche as God hath
not the pow^ that I conceyue ; and yf I be conceyued
with chylde in this houre, I g3rYe it to the devyll, body
and Boule." And this same houre that this duke and
duches were thus moued, the sayd lady was conceyued
with a man chylde, whiche in his lyf wroughte moche
myschefe, as ye shall here after this, but aflberwards he
was converted, and dyde grete penance, and dyed a holy
man, as is shewed here after.

How Sobert the Deuyll was borne, and what grete
payne his moder suffred in hys byrthe.

This duchesse, as we haue herd before, was con-
ceyued with the forsayd chylde, which she bare ix
monethes as comonly women goo with chylde ; and ye
may well peroeyue that this lady ooude not be delyuered
without grete payn, for she traueylled more than a
moneth, and yf good prayers had not been, and almesse
dedes, good werkes, and grete penance done for her, she

g BOB£BT THB PXlTYLIi.

baddeyed of chylde, for all the ladjes and gentyl-
women that there (were) with her wened, she wold hare
perysshed and deyed in trauajlynge. Wherfore they
were gretly abasshed and aferde with the merueylouse
noise and tokens that they herde and se in the byrth of
the said Eobert the Deuyll, in that whan this chylde
was borne, the sky waxed as darke as though it had
been nyghte, as it is shewed in olde cronycles, that it
thondreth and lyghtened so sore, that men thought the
firmament had been open, and all the worlde sholde
haue perysshed. And there blewe soo moche wynde
out of the iiii quarters of the worlde, and was such
storme and tempest, that al the hous trembled so sore,
that it shoke a grete pece of it to the erth, in so moche
that aU they that were in the hous wened that the
worlde had been at an ende, and that they, with the
house and all, sholde haue sonken. But in shorte tyme
it pleased God that all this trouble ceased, and the
weder clered up, and the chylde was brought to chyrch
to be crystened, whiche was named Bobert. This
childe was large of stature at his byrthe and he had
been a yere old, whereof the people had grete wonder ;
and as this chylde was a berynge to the chirche to be
crystned and home ayenst, it neuer ceased cryenge and
houlynge. And in shorte space he had longe teeth
wherwith he bote the norshes pappes in such wyse,
that there was no woman durst gyue hym souke, for he
bote off the hedes of theyr brestes ; wherefore they were
£ftyne to gyue hym souke and to brynge hym up with an

BOBEBT THB DEVTLL. 9

home. And whan he was twelve moneth olde, he coude
speke and go alone better than other ch jldme that were
thre yere old. And the elder that this chjlde Bobert
waxed, more cursted ; and there was no man that coude
rule hym : and whan he founde or coude come by ony
ehyldme he smote and bote and cast stones at them,
and brake theyr armes and legges and neckes,andscratte
out theyr eyen owt of theyr hedes, and therein was all
his delyte and pleasure.

How all the chyldren with one assente named thia
chylde Eoberte the Deuyll.

This chylde within fewe yeares grewe maruaylously,
and more and more encresed of all, and boldness, and
shrewdness, and set by no correccyon, but was euer
smyttynge and tastynge, and cursed dedes doynge.
And some tyme there gadred togyder all the boyes of
the strete to fyghte with him, but whan they se hym
they durst not abyde hym, but cryed one to another,
•'Here cometh the wode Eobert !" an other many cryed,
^ Here cometh the cursed madde Eobert !'' and some
cryed, ** Here cometh Eobert the Deuyll !" and thus
cryenge they voyded all the stretes, for they durst not
abyde and loke hym in the face, and forthwith the ehyl-
dme that knewe hym with one assente calledhymEoberte
the Deuyll, whiche name he kepte durynge his lyfe,
and shal do as longe as the world standeth. Whan this
chyld was seuen yere old or there aboute, the duke his
fader seynge and consyderynge his wycked condycyons.

10 KOBEBT THE PEUTLL.

called hym and sayd onto hjm thuB, '^ My sone me
tbyncke it necessary and tyme, for me to gete you a
wyse Bcole mayster, to leme yertues and doctrine, for
ye be of age ynougbe," and wban the duke bad tbus
sayd, be betoke bis sone to a good dyscreet and wyse
scole mayster to rule and tecbe bym all good condy-
cyons and maners.

How Bobert kylled bis scole mayster.

It fell upon a daye tbat bis scole mayster sbolde
cbastyse Sobert and would bave made bym to bare
lefle bis cursed codycyons, but !Bobert gate a murderer
or bodkin^ and tbrast bis mayster in tbe bely tbat bis
guttes £911 at his fete, and so fell downe deed to tbe
ertb, and Bobert tbrew bis boke ayenst tbe walles in
despyte of his mayster 8a3mge tbus now haue I taugbte
tbe tbat never preste, nor clerke sbal correct me, nor
be my mayster. And &om thens forth there coude no
mayster be founde that was so bolde to take in hande
to tecbe and correcte this Boberte, but were glad to let
bym alone and have bis owne wayes, and be put bym-
selfe to nyce and myscbefe, and to no maner of Tertue
nor grace^ nor wolde be leme for no man lyuyngCi but
mocked both God and holy chyrcbe. And when he came
to tbe cburche and founde the prestos, and clarkes
syngynge G-oddes seruyoe, he came preuely behynd
them, and caste ashes or duste in theyr moutbes in
dyspyte of God. And when be sawe any body in tbe
chyrcbe besy in theyr prayers be wolde come bebynde

BOBEBT THS DEUYLL. 11

them and gyue them a sowse in the necke that thejr
hedes kjssed the ground in so moche that euerj body
cursed hjm for his nr^cked dedes doynge. And the
duke his fader seynge his mjscheuous djspocysyon
and cursed Ijfe of his sone, he was so angry with hym-
selfe, that he wyshed hymself many tymes dede and out
of the worlde. And the duchese in lykewyse was gretly
moued and muche sorowefull by cawse of the mysche-
uous lyfe of her sone, saynge in this wyse, " My lord
our sone is nowe of sufficient age and able to here armes,
wherefore me thynke it were best that ye made hym
knyght if than he wolde remembre thordre of knyght-
hode whereby he myght leve his wyckednes3." The
duke was here withall content. And Bobert had at
that tyme but eyghtene yere of age.

How Eobert the Deuyll was made knyght by the duke

his fader.

This duke assembled upon a hye feast of Whitsontyde,
all his barons and nobles of his lande, and the next of
his kyn and frendes, in the presence of whome he
.called his sone to hym saynge thus, *' Herke my sone
Boberty and take hede what I shaU tell you, it is so that
by thaduyce of my counsell and good frendes, I am now
aduysed to make you a knyght, to thentent that ye
with other knyghtes to haunte chevalrye and knyghtes
condycions, to thentente that ye shall leve and forsake
your uyces and moost hatfuU lyf." Bobert herynge
this, answered his &der, " I shall do your comandment

12 BOBEBT THE BSTTTLL.

but as for the ordre of knyghthode I set nothynge
thereby, for there is no degre shall cause me leye mj
condjcyons nor chaunge my Ijfe, for I am not in that
mynde to do no better than I have done hetherto, nor
to amende for no man Ijuynge." It was the costome
of that lande, that on Whitsonjght the chyrche shold
be watched, and tended with moche people, and theder
cam Bobert like a madman, and oyerthrowynge al them
that came in his waye ferynge nother Ood nor the
Deuyll^ and he was never styll of all the nyght, and in
the momynge whan it was day Bobert was made knyght.
Then this duke comaunded a tournament to be made
in the which the said Bobert wrought maystyes, and
dyde meruaylous dedes of armes, in kyllynge and
berynge downe hors and man, no man refusynge nor
feryiuge. Of some he brake armes and some leggea,
and bare them thorowe and kylled them out of hande ;
firom hym went none unmarked in whiche iustynge
Bobert kylled z horses : the duke herynge how his sone
myscheued and murdred all that came in his handes
he went hymself into the tournament and comaunded
upon a grete payne to sease and ren no more ; then
Bobert rored for anger as he had ben wode and wolde
not obeye his faders comaundement but abode styl in
the fylde smytynge some that he kylled of the moste
valiauntes that thether were comen to toumaye, than
eueiy man cryed upon Bobert to sease, but it auayled
not, for he wolde not cease for no man, nor was there
no man so bolde to encountre hym, for bycause that he

BOBERT THE BEUYLL. 13

was 80 stronge this Bobert djde so moche mjschefe
that all the people were in a roTe, and assembled all
with one assent in a grete angre and ranne to' the duke
complaynjnge, saynge thus : ''Lorde, ye be gretely to
blame that ye snffire your sone to do as he doth^ ; we
beseche yow for goddes sake to fynde some remedye for
hym, to cause hym to sease or leue his mysrule.**

How Bobert the Deuyll rode about the countree of
Normandy, robbynge, stelynge, morderynge, and
brennynge chyrches, abbayes and other holy places
of relygypn, and forsynge of women, and rauyshynge
of maydens.

Than whan Bobert se there was no man more lefte in
the felde, and that he coude do no moremyschef there,
than he toke his horse with the spores to seke his
ayentures, and began to do every day more harm than
other one, for he forsed and rauysshed maydens and
wyues without nombre, he kylled murdred so moche
people, that it was pyte, also he robbed chyrches
abbayes, hermytages, and fermes, there was not an
abbaye in all the countrey but he robbed and pylled
them, these wycked dedes of Robert came to the eres
of the good duke, and al they that were thus robbed
and rebuked came to complayne of the grete outrage
and suppressyon done by Bobert, and sty 11 was doynge
thoroweout all the countree. Onesayd, *'My lordeyoure
sone hathe forsed my wyfe," another sayd, "he hath
rauyshed my doughter," the other sayd, '^ he hath stolen

14 SOBXBT THB DSXTTLL;

my goodes, and robbed my bous ;" and otiier sajd, ** he
hath wounded me to deth," with many semblable
offences. Thus hiy they greuoualy complaynynge before
the good dake» that grete pyte it was there for to se
the good duke heiynge the greuoua and Lunentable
complayntes of the great murdre done by Bobert his
Bone, thoroughout all the lande of Normande. Than
his herte was suppressed with so grete sorrowe and
thought that the salt teres breste oute of his* eyen, and
he wepte tenderly and sayd; **0 ryght wyse God
creatoure of heaven and erth, I haue so many tymes
prayed ye to sende me a chylde and all my delyte was
to haue a sone, to the entente that I myght of hym
have grete joye, and solace. And now haue I one, the
whiche doth my herte soo moche payne, sorowe and
thought that I wote in no wyse what to begyn, nor doo,
nor saye thereto, but good Lorde onely I crye upon the
for helpe, and remedye to be a lytel released of my
payne and sorowe."

How the duke sent out men of armes for to take
Bobert his sone, whiche Eoberte toke them all, and
put out theyr eyen in dyspyte of his &der, and sente
them so home agayne.

Thebe was a knyght of the Dukes hous, whiche per-
ceyued that this good duke was uery sorowfull and
pensyfe, andknewe no remedy ; then this knyght spake
and sayd to hym : " My lorde, I wolde aduyse you to
sende for your sone Bobert and let hym be brought to

BOBEBT THE SEUTLL. IS

your presence, and there before your nobles, and nexte

frendes to rebuke bym, and than commaund hym to

leue hys eursed lyfe, and yf be wyll not, ye to do

justice upon hym as on a straunge man : hereto the

duke consented, and thought the knyght gaue hym

good counsell, and incontynent he sente out men to

seke Siobert, and in ony wyse they to biynge hym to hya

presence: this Eobert, herynge of the complayntes

made of all. the people upon hym unto his fader, and

that his fader had sent out men to take hym, wherefore

all them that he coude gete, he put out theyr eyen, and

so he toke the men that his fader sonde for hym, ancl

put out theyr eyen in despyte of his &der ; and whan he

had thus blynded his fiGMler*s seruauntes, he sayd to

them in mockynge, ^ Syrs, nowe shall ye slope the

better ; go now home to my &der, and tell hym that

I set lytel by hym, and bycause he sendeth you to

brynge me to hym, therefore to hysdyspyte I have put

out your eyen." These poore seruauntes whiche the

duke had sent for Bobert his sone, came home with

grete payne and in grete heuynesse saynge thus : '' O

good lorde se howe youre sone Bobert that ye dyde

send us for hath arayedus, and blynded us." The good

duke seynge his men in this case, he waxed very angry^

and full of yre and began to compasse in his mynde how

and by what meanes he myght come by to take Bobert

his sone.

16 BOBEBT THE DBITTLL.

How the duke of Normandj made a proclamation
thrughout his lande, how men sholde take Bobert
his sone, with al his oompanj, and brynge them
eyerjehone to piyson.

Thak spake a wyse lorde, sajinge thus, ** mj lorde
take noo more thought for ye shall never se the day
that Bobert your sone wyll come in your presence in so
moche, as he hath done so grete and greuouse offences
to your comons, and your owne messengers that ye
sonde for hym; but it were of necessite for you to
correct and punysshe hym for hys grete offences, that
he dayly doth, and hath done, for we fynde it wryten,
that the lawe byndeth you therto/* The duke wyllynge
to accomplyshe the councel of his lordes sonde out
messangers in all the hast, unto all the portes, good
townes and barons, throughout all his dukedome com-
mandynge on his behalfe aU shryues, baylufes, or other
ofl^cers to doo theyr uttermoost dylygence to take
Bobert his sone prysoner and to holde and kepe hym
surely in pryson with aU his company and aflSnyte.
Whan Boberte herde of this proclamation, he with all
his company were sore aferde of the dukes malyce and
whan Bobert se this he was almost out of his wyt foi^
wode angre and wheted hys teeth lyke a bore, and
sware a grete othe saynge thus, ^ that he wolde hare
open war with his fader, and subdewe and spyll all his
lordshyppe."

BOBISBT THE PEXTYLL. l7

How Sobert made hym a strong lious in a darke
thjcke wyldemeswhere he wrought myscheff without
comparjson and aboue al mesure or natural reason.

Then whan Bobarte herde and knewe of the forsayd
thynges, he lete make in a thycke wylde foreste a
stronge house, wherein he made his dwellynge phice,
and this place was wylde and strongs and more
meter for wylde beestes, than for any people to abyde
in, and there Sobert assembled and gadered for his
company, all the moost myscheuouste and falsest theues
that he coude fynde or heere of in his faders lande,
to wete morderers, theues, streterobers, rebelles, bren-
ners of chyrches and houses, forsers of women, robbers
of chyrches, and the moost wyckeste and curseste
theues that were under the sone. Eobert had gadered
to doo hym seruyce wherof he was Capytayne, and in
the forsayd wyldemesse, Bobert wyth his company
dyde so moche myschefe, that no tonge can tell, he
mordred marchauntes, and all that came by the waye,
no man durst loke out, nor come abrode for fere of.
Bobert and his company, of whome eyery man was
aferde, for they robbed all the countree, in so moche^
that no man durst loke out, but they were kylled of
Bobert or his men, also poore pelgremes that went on
pelgremage were murdered by Bobert and his company,
in so moche, that euery man fledde from them, lyke
as the shepe fledde from the wolfe ; for they were as
wolues warynge, sleyinge all that they coude come by,

IS BOBERT THE DEUYLL.

and thus, Bobert and his company ledde an ungracious
lyfe ; also he was a grete glotten of etynge and drjmk-
ynge, and neuer fastynge, though it were neuer so
grete a fastynge daye. In Lente, or on Ymber dayes,
he ete j&esshe, as well on Frydayes as on Sondayes ; but
after he had done all this myschefe, he suffred grete
payne, an hereafter ye shal here.

How Eobert the Deuyll killed vii heremytes.

It befell upon a tyme that Eobert, whiche euer ima-
gyned and studyed in his mynde howe and by what
meane he might doo moost myschefe and murdre, as he
had ben ever accustomed before he rode out of his hous
or theuyshe neste to sieke his pray, and in the myddel of
the wode he sawe vii hooly heremytes, to whome he
rode as faste as he coulde with his swerde redy drawen,
lyke a man oute of his mynde, and there he slewe this
vii heremytes, the whiche were bolde and good men,
but they were so vertuous and holy, that they suffi^d
the marterdome for the loue of Gtod. And whan he had
slayne these vii devout men, he spake in mockage, and
sayd : ** I haue founde here a neste of a many pope holy
horsons whome I haue shauen them crounes : I trowe
they be dronke ; they were wonteto kneke upon theyr
knees, and now they lye upon theyr backes." There
dyde Eobert a cursed dede and blode shedynge, in de-
spy te of Gtod and holy chyrche ; and after that he hadde
done this myscheuous dede he rode out of the wode
lyke a deuyll out of helle, ^mynge worse thenne wode,

BOBEET THE DET7TLL. 19

and his clothes were all dyed rede with the blode of the
people that he had murdred and slajne, and thus arayed
he rode oner the feldes, and clothes, handes, face, all
were rede of the blode of the holy heremytes, whiche
he had so pjteonsly murdred in the wyldernesse.

How Eobert the Deuyll rode to his moder the duchesse
of Normandye, beynge in the castell of Darques :
she was come to a feste.

BoBEBT rode so ferre and so longe, that he came to the
castell of Darques ; but he mette before with a shyp-
herde which had toldehymthat his moder the duchesse
sholde come of the sayd castell to dyner, and so he rode
theder. But whan Eobert came there, and the people
se hym come, they ranne awaye frome hym, lyke the
hare &ome the houndes ; one ranne and shette hym in
hys house, an other ranne into the chyrche for fere.
Eobert seynge this, that all the people fled from hym
for fere, he began to sygh in his herte, and sayd to
hymself, — O ! Almyghty God, how may this be, that
every man thus fleeth from me ! Nowe I perceyue that
I am the moost myscheuouste and the moost cursedest
wretche of this worlde, for I sente better to be a Jewe
or a Sarasyne, than any Orysten man, and I se wel that
I am worste of all yll. Alas ! sayd Eobert the Deuyll,
I may well hate and curse myne ungracyous and cursed
lyfe, wherfore I am worthy to be hated of God and the
worlde. In this minde and heuyijesse came Eobert to
the castell gate, and lyghte downe &om his horse, but

20 4tOBBBT THE I>I&T7TLL«

there was no man that durste ahjde ahoat hym, nov
come njghe hjm to holde his horse ; and he hadde no
seruante to serue hym, hut let his horse stande there at
the gate, and drewe out of his swerde, whiche was all
hlodj, and incontynente toke the waye unto the halle,
where the duchesse his moder was. Whan the duchesse
sawe Bobert her sonne come in this wyse, with a blody
swerde in his hande, she was sore aferde, and wolde
haue flede a way frome hym, for she knewe wel his con-
dycyons. Bobert, seynge that euery body dyde flee
from hym, and that his owne moder wolde haue fledde
in lykewyse, he called unto her pyteously afeure, and
sayd : " Swete lady moder, be not aferde of me, but
stande styl tyl I haue spoken wifch you, and flee not
from me in the worshyp of Crystes passyon.'* Than
Boberte's herte beynge full of thought andrepentaunce,
wente nygher her, saynge thus : " Dere lady moder, I
praye and requyre you tell me how and by what maner
or'wherby cometh it that I am soo vycyous and curste,
for I knowe wel I haue it other by you or of my fader ;
wherefore incontynent I hertly desyre and praye you
that ye shewe me the trouth hereof."

How the Duchesse desyred Bobert her sone to smyte of
her hede, and than she tolde hym howe she had
gyuen hym to the deny 11 in his concepcyon.

Tex duchesse had gretly meruaylynge whan she herde
her sone speke these wordes ; and piteously wepynge,
with a sorrowftil herte saynge thus to hym : *^ My dere

BOBEBT THE DSUXLL. 21

sone, I requyre you hertly that ye vryll smyte of my
heed." This sayd the lady, for very grete pyte that
she had upon hym, for bycause she had gyuen hym to
the deuyll in his concepeyon. Bobert answerde his
moder with an hevy and a pyteous chore, saynge thus:
'^ ! dere moder, why sholde I do so, that so moche
myschefe have done, and this sholde be the worste dede
that euer I dyde ; but I praye you to shewe me that I
desyre to wete of you." Then the duchesse, herynge
his hertely desyre, tolde unto hym the cause why he
was so vicious and full of myschefe, and how she gaue
hym to the deuyll in his concepeyon, herselfe mys-
praysynge, sayd thus unto Boberte : '^ I sonne, I am
themoost unfortunate woman lyuynge, and I knowledge
that it is ail my faute that ye be soo cursed and wycked
a leuer."

How Eobert the Deuyll toke leue of his moder.

BoBEBT herynge his moders saynge he fell downe to the
erthe into a swone, for very grete sorowe and laye styll
a longe whyle, than he remeued agayne and came to
hymself and began bytterly to wepe, and complayne,
saynge thus. "The fendes of hell be with grete
dylygence to applye theym to gete and haue my body
and soule, but nowe from this tyme forthe, I forsake
theym all theyr werke, and wyll neuer do more harme
but good, and amende my lyfe and leue my synes and
do penaunce therefore," than after this Bobert spake to
hia moder, the whiche was in grete sorowe, and heuy«P

22 BOBEST THE DET7TLL'.

•

nesse sajDge thus : '^ O moost reuerente lady moder, I
hertelj beseche and requjre jou that it wilde please
you to haue me recommaunded unto my fader ; for I
wyll take the waye to Bome to be assoyled of my synnes,
whiche are innumerable, and to abhomynable to reeounte.
Therefore I wyll neuer slepe one nyght there I slepe
an other tyll I come at Bome, and god wyll."

Howe Bobert departed from his moder, and rode into
the wyldemesse where he founde his companye.

BoBEBT in grete haste lyght upon his horse and rode
to the wode where he had lefte his companye the whiche
he founde. The duchesse made grete lamentacyon for
her sone Bobert, whiche had taken his leue of her, and
sayd many tymes to herselfe, '' Alas what shall I do
for it is all my faute that Boberte my sone hath done
so moche myschefe :" and in the meane whyle that the
duchesse made this sorowe and bewayllynge for her
sone Bobert, in came the duke into the chambre, and as
Boone as she sawe hym she began to tell hym of his
sone Bobert pyieously wepynge ; shewynge hym what
he had sayd and done, than the good duke axed whether
Bobert were disposed to leue his vycyous lyfe, and yf
he were sory for his grete offences, "Te my lorde" sayd
she, '* he is sorerepentaunce :" thenbegan the Duke sore
to sygh, and sayd, ''Alas it is all in vayne, that
Bobert thynketh to do, for I here he shall neuer have
power to make restytycyon of thehurtes and harmes the
whiche he hathe doone in his lyfe, but I beseche

BOBSBT THE BEUTLL. 23

Almyghty God to prolonge his lyfe, and sende hym a
respjte that he may amende his lyfe, and do penaunce
for his synnes."

How Eobert the Deuyll tolde his company he wolde goo
to Some for to be assoyled of his synnes.

NoTf is Eobert come agajrne to his companye whiche
he founde sy ttynge at dyner, and whan they sawe hym
they rose up and dyde hym reuerence ; than Eobert
began to rebuke theym for theyr vycyous lyuynge
sayynge thus, " My welbeloued felowes, I requyre you
in the reuerence of God, that ye wyll herken, and take
hede to this that I shall shewe you, ye knowe well how
that we haue ledde hetherto an ungracyous and moost
uycyous lyfe, robbed and pylled chyrches,forced women,
rauysshed maydens, robbed and kylled marchauntes.
"We have robbed and kylled nonnes, holy aunkers,
preestes, clerkes, and many other people without
nombre haue we murdred and robbed, wherfore we
be in the waye of endles dampnacyon, except that
God haue mercy upon us. Wherefore I requyre you
everychone for goddes sake that ye wyll chaunge your
opynyon, and leue your abhomynable synnes, and do
penaunces therefor, for I wyll goo to Rome to be
shryuen and to haue penaunce for my synnes." When
Bobert thus had sayd, one of the theues rose and sayd
to his companye in mockage, " Nowe Syrs, take hede
the foxe wyll be an aunker for he begynneth to preche,
Eobert mocketh fast with us, for he is our captayne.

24 BOBEBT THE DEUTLL.

and doth more birme alone than all we do, how thjnkd
ye wyll he be longe thus holy.'' Yet aayd Eobeit»
'* Gentyll felawes I praye you for goddes sake leue
your condycyons, and thynke on our soule, and do
penaunee for your moost fellest stynkynge synnes, and
crye upon oure lorde for mercy and forgeueness, and
he wyl f oi^ue you.' ' Whan Eobert had sayd thus, than
spake to hym one of the theues and sayd, '' I praye
you mayster be in pease, for it auayleth not what ye
ssye, ye do but spende your tyme in wast, for I nor my
companye wyll not amende our lyfe for no man
lyuynge." And all his companye commended his
saynge, and sayden all with one voyce, '^ He sayth
trewe, for and we sholde dye, we wyll not leue our
olde condycyons and cursed lyfe, but and yf we haue
done moche hurte hetherto we wyll do moche more
hereafter."

How Bobert the Deuyll kylled all his companye.

BoBEBT herynge the faste and wycked opynyon and
myscheuous purpose of his company waxed angry, and
thought yf they remayne and abyde styll here, they
wyl doo grete myschefe and murdre, but he wente
preuely unto the dore and shyte it fast, and gate a
grete staffe and layde one of the theues on the hede
that he fell downe deed to the erth. And so he serued
one after an other, tyll he hadde kylled them everychone,
thenne sayd he thus to them, " Syrs, I haue rewarded
you after your deserte, and by cause ye have done me

BOBSBT THE DEUYLL, 25

good seruyse, I haue gyuen you good wages, for who-
souer serueth a good mayster he is lyke to haue good
wages." Whan Eobert thus had done he wolde have
brente the hous, but he consydered the great good that
was therin, wherfore he let it stande, shytte faste
the dores about and locked them, and brought awaye
the keye with hym to his fSEiders.

How !Bobert the Deuyll sente the keye of his chefe
hous or theuysshe lodgynge to his faders the duke of
Normandye, and how he wente to Eome.

Thak whan Eobert had done all that said is, he tooke
up his hande and blessed hym, and rode through the
forest the neere waye to Eome. Eobert rode that daye
so long tyll that the nyght came on, and was passynge
sore and hongred, for he had eten no mete of all that
daye, and fortuned to come rydynge by an Abbaye,
whyche he had many tymes robbed, and the abbote was
his kynnessman, and Eobert rode in to this abbaye and
sayd neuer a worde, but whan the monkes se Eobert
come they were aferde, and ranne awaye, saynge one to
another, " Here cometh the ungracyous Eobert, the
Deuyll hath brought him hether." "Whan Eobert
herde this, and se them all renne awaye frome him,
than his sorowe begun to renewe, and sayd in himself,
in sore syghynge and sorowfull herte : " I may well
hate my cursed lyfe, for euery man fleeth from me, and I
haue spent my tyme ungracyously, and in euyll and
cursed werkes," and there withall he rode streyght

26 BOBEBT THE D£ITTLL.

in the chyrche dore and a lyghte done from his horsey
deuoutely sajinge his prayers to God in this wyse. ** O
Lord Jhesu I moost synfuU wretche and vessell of all
stynkynge synnes. I praye the that thou wylte haue
mercy on me and preserue and kepe me from all daun-
gers and peryll." And then he wente and spoke to the
abbotte and monkes so swetely and so peteously and
amyably that they began to go towarde hym, to whom
Eobertesayd peteously, wepynge knelynge on his knees.
'* My lorde I knowledge myself that I haue greuously
offended you, and haue grete harme and injurye unto
your abbay. "Wherfore I requyre and praye you in all
the honoure of Cry stes passyon of forgy uenesse.' ' And
than he spake to the Abbote in thys wyse, " My Lorde
abbott I praye you hertely haue me recomaunded to my
lorde my fader the duke of Normandye, and delyuer
hym this keye of the chefe hous where I haue dwelled
with my companye, the whiche I haue all sla/ne to
thentent that they sholde do no more harme, and in the
hous lyeth all the goodes and tresoure that I haue
stolen from you and other men, wherfore I am ryght
Bory, and I beseeche you of forgyuenesse, and I pray
you that this good may be rendred agene unto such
people as they haue belongynge to before.'* Eobert
abode that nyght in the abbay, but in the momynge
erly he wente thens and left behinde hym his horse and
his swerde where withall he had doone grete myschefe.
And so he went alone towards Eome. And on the same
daye rode the Abbote to the Duke of fTormandye, and

BOBEBT THE DET7TLL. 27

gaue hym the keye that Bobert had delyuered hym, and
told the duke how lie was gone to Borne. Than the
duke gaue all the poor people theyr goodes agen that
they lost befor as ferre as it coude be founde in the
hous. We wyll sease of the Dute and the Abbott, and
speke of Bobert whiche goth to Rome warde alone, with
grete devocyon.

How Bobert came to Bome for remyssyon of his

synnes.

BoBEBT went so longe ouer hylles and dales alone, tyll
at last with grete payne and pouerte he came to Bome
in to the cyte, upon a shere Thursdaye at nyght, and
on theFrydaye after, the pope hymselfe sayd the deuyne
seruyce, as the custom was in saynt Peter's chyrche ;
and Bobert presed fast to have comen to the pope, but
the pope's seruantes se that Bobert presed so sore to
come to the pope, they smote hym, and bad hym goo
back; but the more they smote hym, the more he
presed and thronge to gette nygh the pope, and so at
last he gate to hym, and fell doune on his knees at the
feet of the pope, cryenge with a loud voyce, saynge
thus : '^ ! holy fader, haue mercy on me !*' and thus
laye Bobert cryenge longe, whyle the people that were
by the pope were angry that Bobert made suche a noyse,
and wolde haue dryuen hym thens, but the pope seynge
Bobert's grete desyre, had pyte upon hym, sayd to the
people, " Late hym alone, for in all that I can se he
hath grete deuocyon." Wherefore thepope commaunded

28 BOBEBT THE DEUYLL.

them all to holde their pease, that he myght the better
here and understande Bobert. Then sajd Bobert to
the pope in this manner : '^ ! holy fader, I am the
moost and the greteste syner of all the worlde !" The
pope toke Bobert up by the hande, and sayde to hym :
" Good frende, what is your desyre, and what eleth you
to make all this noyse ?" Than sayd Bobert : ** O ! holy
fader, I beseche you to here my confessyon, for I be
not by you assoyled, I am dampned worlde withouten
ende, for it is meruayle that the deuyll here me not
awaye body and soule, seynge the foule innumerable
synne that I am laden and bounden withall more than
ony man lyuynge ; and in soo moche that ye are he that
gyueth helpe and comforte to them that haue nede,
therefore I humbly beseche you for the passyon of our
Lorde Jhesu Cryst to here and purge me of my abho-
mynable synnes, wherby I am deceued and departed
from al the joyes of heuen, and I am wors than a Jewe.*'
The pope herynge this, domed and thought in hymselfe
whether this were Bobert the Deuyll, and axed hym,
'^ Sone, be ye Bobert the whiche I haue herde so moche
spekynge of, the whiche is worst of all men." Than
Bobert answered and sayd, ''Ye." Than the pope
sayd 2 " I wyll assoyle you, but I conjure you in the
name of Gf^od that ye do no man harme." The pope and
all that were aboute hym were aferde to loke upon
Bobert. Bobert fell on his knees with great deuocyon
and repentaunce of hys synnes, saynge, ''Holy fader,
nay as longe as I lyue I promyse God and his blessed

J

r

i

BOBEBT THE DBUYLL. 29

moder I wyll neuer hurte Crjsten creature." Than
incontynent the pope toke Bobert aparte, and herde his
confessyon, to whome Robert shrowe him deuoutly,
shewynge how his moder had gjruen hym to the deuyll
in his concepcyon, wherof the pope was sore aferde.

How the pope sente Bobert thre myle without Eome to

an holy heremyte.

The pope this herynge was gretly abasshed, and blessyd
hym, and sayd to Bobert : " My dere sone, ye muste
goo thre myle without the towne, and there ye shall
fynde an heremyte whiche is my goostly fader, and to
hym ye shall confesse you, and saye that I sonde you
to hym, and he shall asoyle you." Bobert answered
the pope : ** I wyll go with a good wyll ;" and toke his
leue of the pope saynge, " God gyue me grace to do
that may be to the helth of my soule . ' * Soo that nyght
Bobert abode in Bome, for it was late, and in the
momynge erly Bobert went out of Bome towarde the
place where he sholde fynde the heremyte ; and so he
wente so longe ouer hyUes and dales with grete desyue
to be shryuen of his synnes, and at last he came where
the heremyte dwelled, whereof be was glad, and came
to the heremyte and tolde hym how the pope had sent
hym theder to be confessed of hym. Than the here-
myte sayd he was hertly welcome ; and within a whyle
Bobert began to confesse and shewe his synne, and
iyrst he shewed the heremyte how his moder had gyuen
hym to the deuyll in his concepcyon ; and how he smote

30 BOBEBT THE DETTTLL.

the children in bis youth or he coude goo alone ; and
how he kylled his scole master ; and how many knyghtes
he kylled at the iustynge whan his fader made hym
knyght; and he rode thorowe his fader's lande, robbynge
and stelynge, forsynge of women, rauysynghe of mayd-
ens; and how he thrast out the eyen of his fader's'*' men
in despyte of hym ; and how he had kylled vii here-
mytes ; and shortly shewed h3rm all the offences that
euer he dyde, sethen the houre of hys byrth tyll that
tyme, wherof the heremyte had maruayle, but he was
glad that Eoberfc was repentaunt for hys synnes. Whan
Eobert had thus confessed hym, the heremyte sayd to
hym : " Sone, thys nyght ye shall abyde here, and to
morrowe I shall gyue good councell of that ye haue to
do." Eobert that was so curst and myscheuous, ferful
cruel, and proude as a lyon, is now as gentyU and cur-,
teys, and swete of wordes, and wyse in his dedes, as
euer was ony duke or prynce lyuynge. Then Bobert
was soo wery and oueroome with goynge, that he coude
nother ete nor drynke, but went aparte and sayd his
prayers to Almighty God, prayenge hym thrughe his
indeles mercy, that he wolde kepe hym from the fendes
temptacyon and deceyte, the heremyte made Bobert to
lye that nyght in a lytell chapell that stode nye his
celle, and the heremyte prayed all the nyght to our
lorde for Bobert, whiche sawe that he hadde grete re-
pentaunce for his synnes, and thus prayenge the here-
myte fell a sleep.

* The original has moder's.

BOBEBT THE DETTYLL. 81

How Gtoi sent an anngell to the heremyte to shewe hym
the penaunce that he sholde gyue to Eobert for his
synnes.

The heremyte being thus a slepe, ther cam to hym an
aungell, saynge to hym in this wyse : " Holy fader, here
and take hede of the message that God commaundeth
the ; yf that Eobert wyll be shry ven of his synnes, he
must kepe and counterfete the wayes of a fole, and
be as he were dombe ; and he may ete no maner of
mete, but that he can take it from the dogges ; and in
this wyse, without spekynge, and counterfetynge the
fole, and no thynge etynge but what he can take from
the dogges, must he be tyll tyme that it please God to
shewe hym that his synne be forgyuen ;" and with this
vycyon the heremyte awoke out of his slepe, and began
to remembre hymselfe of this that sayd is, and thanked
our Lorde of his message done to hym. And whan the
day began to apere, the heremyte called Sobert unto
hym, with fare and comfortable wordes saynge to him,
** My frende, come hether to me ;" and incontynent
Sobert came to hym with grete deuocyon, hym con-
fessynge. And whan Eobert had shryuen him, the
heremyte sayd thus unto hym : " Sone, I thought and
aduysed me of the penance that ye shall haue, to get
remyssyon of your synnes, in whiche ye gretly offended
ayenst God, that is to wete ye must counterfayte and
playe the fole ; and ye may ete no mete but that ye can
take it from the dogges whan men gyue them ought ;

82 BOBEBT THB DXTTTLL.

fdso you must kepe you dombe without epeclie, and lye
among dogges, for thus hath G-od thys nyght com-
maunded me by a aungell to gyue you this for your
penaunce, and ye may offende no man the whyle your
penaunce be a doynge ; and this penaiuice ye must doo
for your synnes in maner and forme as I haue tolde
you, tyll suche tyme as it shall please your Lorde to
sonde you worde that your synnes be forgyuen."
Bobert beynge mery and glad, thankynge our Lorde
that he was assoyled of his synnes, and had therfore so
lyght penaunce as hym thought that it was. Nowe
taketh Bobert leve of the heremyte, and goth to do his
sharpe penaunce, whiche he helde but lyghte, remem-
brynge his grete abhomynable stynkynge synnes that
he hath done all the dayes of his lyfe ; this was a
£ayre myracle, for he that was so vycyous and so furyous
a rebell, and proude a synner, is now so full of uertues
and fayre condycyons and tame as a lambe.

How Bobert the Deuyll toke leve of the heremyte, and
went agayne to Bome to do his penaunce that the
heremyte had gyuen hym.

BoBEBT had taken leue of the heremyte, and is gone
towarde Bome, there for to do his penaunce. And
whan he came into the cyte he began to lepe and renne
about the stretes, makynge hymselfe as he had ben a
fole, and the chyldren in the stretes se Bobert renne in
this wyse, and they after hym shoutynge and cryenge
and castynge with myre and derte, and all suche fylth

BOBXBT THB DXITTLL. 88

fts they fbunde in the etretes, and the burgeydies of the
cyte laye in theyt wyndowes and langhed and mo6keth
tnth Bobert. Than whan Eobert had thus played the
fole in Borne a ceitayne season, he came on a tyme to
themperour's couirte and se the gate dyde stande open
and came streyght into the hall, and there jetted up and
downe from the one syde to the other, sonityme he went
fiisteandsomtymesofbelyandthonhe hopped and ran and
other whyle stode styll, but he stode not longe in one
place. The emperour seynge Bdbert thus playenge thd
fble, he sayd to one of his seruantes, se yonder is a
&yre fauoured yonge man, me thynke he is out of his
Inynde, the whiche is grete domage, for he is fayre and
a well made man, go and gyue hym mete. This empe-
tour's seruaunte dyde as he was commaunded, and
called Bobert to hym aiid wolde have gyuen hym some
mete, but Bobert nolde eie nor drynke, and whyle
Bobert sate thus at the table, the emperour sawe one of
his houndes whiche was bytten with an other dogge^
wherefore, themperour cast hytn a bone, and the dogge
teught the bone and began to gnawe there on, and
Bobert seynge that lept from the table and toke it
from hym, but the dogge fought with Bobdrte for the
bone, and helde faste the one endcj and Bobert 1^6
ether ende, but Bobert se it wolde be no befcter, but
Set him do#ne on the grounde, and gneWe oii the one
^nde of the bone and the dogge on the other ; th^m-^
petcna and they that loked there on laughed at
Bobert and t^ dogge, but Bobert dyde so moche tliat

34 BOBEBT THB DEUYLL.

he gate the bone alone, and laye and gnewe it for he
was sore enhongred ; themperour seynge that Sobert
was so sore enhongred he caste to an other dogge an
hole lofe, but Bobert toke it from hvm and brake an
two peces and gaue the dogge half, for bycause he
gate it for the dogges sake, themperour seynge this
lough there at and sayd to his seruauntes ; " we haue
here nowe the moste foolysshe fole, and the verayst
nedy that euer.I sawe, for he taketh the dogges mete
from them, and eteth it himself, ther by a man may
perfytely knowe that he is a natural fole ;" all that were
in the hall gaue the dogges as moche mete as they
might ete, to thentent that Bobert myght fyll his
belye with them, and whan he had fylled his belly
whyle he rose up and walked up. and downe in the hall
with a stafe in his hande, smytynge upon stoles and
benches lyke as and jf he had ben a very innocent fole.
And thus walkynge he loked on euery syde, and sawe
a dore where men wente in to a fayre gardyne in the
whiche gardyne there stode a fayre fontayne or well,
and theder went Bobert to drynke, for he was euyll
a thursty and whan nyght came on Bobert folowed the
forsayd dogge where soo euer he wente, the whiche
was accustomed to lye euery nyght under a steyre,
and there he wente and layde him downe and Bobert
followed hym under the steyre and layde hym downe
by the dogge, themperour se3mge this, had compassyon
on Bobert and commaunded that men sholde here hym
a bedde, that he myghte lye there upon to slepe;

menmyghte ae Boone haue kylled hjm aa drjuen hyia
from Sobert.

How Bobert made a Jewe to kysae his dogges arse at

the Emperour'a table.
It befell upon a tyme that themperoure belde a grete-

86 BQIBSBT THE XKlXTtLL,

&8tein hiJ9 pahf sin ttie ejise of Bome, ta wUekeleBte
were assembled al the chefe of the luide, anvonge
whome theie was a Jewe whidhe was receytver ef the
moost pevt of aM themperour's landes, and whan eaeey
mail ivas set at the table Bobert walked up and doune
m the hall hauynge hig dogge in hisarmesplftynge the
fele^as he was wonte to doo, afti*d thos came to the
table behynd the forsayd Jewe, whiche was set at the
empei^ours tables asid Bobert came b^ynde his backe
and knocked hym on the sholdfer, the Jewe lefbe; hym
and tonnved his &ce shottely behynde hym^ and
Bobert hadde tip his degges arse te^ and setto it
upon tile Jewess ftuse. The Mnperonr and his lovdes
this seynge, laraghed and' had- good game thereat, haH
the Jiewe wae wroth, and fonle ashamed, Imt he dun^
saye nothynge at the tyme. Than Bobert sette downe
his dogge and incontynente the dogge lepte upon the
tbble, and dyde soo moche witii his mouth and fete,
t)iat he caste dotine all tiie mete under the table. And
in this manor Boberte spente his tyme euen without
spekynge, lyke aa the heremyte had commaundedhym,
and euer he dyde some madde or merry conceyte to^
cause the emperour to laughte or be mfery.

How Bobert threwe downe a bzyde on a foule dong^*
hyll, and how he put alyuynge catte in an. hole
sethynge potto with podred befe.

It befel upon a tyme that there was a bryde sholde goo
to chyrche to be wedded, whiche was gayly appareUed,
^S'untaabrydeapperteyned; Bobert seyngethis'brydd-

BOBEBX THE DBUYZiL. 87

thus gayljr usayed, toke ber by the ihaade and leddb
h&r thorough a paBflji^ foule donge hyll, and these
made her fall aoad fouled her gaye aiaye, and ihasi he
raune Ijghtij awaye aboatynge and laugfaynge, and
ramie unto the 1)rydeB kytchen where her d^n^ was
appeiejied and caughte & lyuynge catte and caste hetr
inthepotteofpouldredbefe. The whiehe iax^ODtjnente
wfMS tolde to themperoure, where at he and all hb
lordes laughed, and had grete game there at, and they
loued Eobert paasynge well, &X he made moofaemyrth
without harme.

How the Seneschall had gadred a grete armye of men
of warre of Saresyns, and layde syege to Bome» by
cause the emperoure wolde not gyue hym his
doughter in maryage.

Ik the meane season whyle Bobert was thus in Bome
doynge his penaunce as a forsayd, which dured seuen
yeres or there about in the emperoure's courte, the
whiche em^our had a fayre doughter, but she was
bome domb and neuer spoke, and the emperours
senesshal dyuerse tymes had desyred his doughter in
maryage of the emperoure^ but he wolde neuer graunte
hym her, wherfore the senesshall was gretly m^oued
aod angry therwith themperoure, for he thoughtehe
myght haue wonne of hym his empyre by f^rce, and
myght, in soo moche the seneschall came upon a tyme
with a grete boost of Sarasyns, and layde syege to the
cy te of Eome, wherof the emperour had grete maruayle

B8 BOBXBT THE DEUYLL.

and wondred, than the emperonr gadred and assembled
all the lordes barons askinge of them counsell, saynge
thus, " My lordes, gyue me good counseyl that we
may withstande this Hethen dogges whiche haue layde
ayege here to our cyte, wherefore I take grete thought
for they kepe all my lande under theyr subieccyon and
they wyll brynge us to confusyon yf that God out of
his endles mercy helpe us not, wherfore I praye you
euerychone to go fyght with them with all our power
and myght and dryue them awaye ;" than answered the
lordes and kny ghts all with one assent saynge, '' Souerayne
lorde your counseyl is good and wyse, wherefore we be
all ready to goo with you and gyue them batayle and
defende our ryght bothe lande and cyte." The emperour
thanked them of this answere and was glad therof, and
made proclamacyon throughout all his landes and cytees
that eury man olde and younge that were able to here
armes sholde make them redy to fyght ayenst theyr
moost cruell enmyes the Sarasyns which were come into
his lande, and contynent whan this proclamation was
done amonge the comyns euery man was wyllynge and
redy to go with themperour to fyght and defende theyr
ryght, and so they went forth in a fayre ordynaunce
with themperour to fyght upon theyr mortall enmyes
the Hethen dogges. And for all that themperour had
moche mo people than the seneschall, yet the
seneshall had wonne the felde, hadde not God of hia
grace sente theder Eobert to resyste and helpe the
Eomaynes in theyr grete necessyte.

BOBEBT THE SEUYLL. 39

How our Sauyour Jhesu hauynge compassyon on the
crysten blode, sent Eobert by an aungell a whyte
horse and hameys, commaundynge hym to go rescue
and helpe the Bomayns ayenst the Ethen dogges the
Sarasyns.

The emperonr and the Bomayns went to the batayle as
sayd is ayenst the Sarasyns^ and Eobert was at home,
where he was accostomed to walke in the gardyne to a
fountayne or well to drynke, and this was on the same
daye that themperour with his hoste sholde gyue
batayle ayenst the Sarasyns : than came there, a uoyca
oute of Heuen sente from our Lorde, saynge in this
maner. " Bobert, Q-od commaundeth you, by me, that
ye incontynent arme you with this hameys, and lyght
upon this horse that God hath sente you, and ryde in
all the hast possyble and rescue the emperour and his
people.'^ Bobert herynge the commaundement of G-od
was abasshed in his mynde, and durst not do ayenst
goddes commaundement, but in contynent he armed
hym and lepte on the hors without tarynge and rode
his waye. The emperour's doughter whiche I tolde you
of before, stode at a wyndowe and sawe Bobert thus
armed on horsbacke, than if she coude haue spoken she
wolde haue tolde it, but she coude not speke for she
was dombe, but she remembred and bare it surely in
her mynde. Bobert thus horst and hamayst, rode into
themperours boost whiche he sawe sore ouer pressed
with theyr emnyes the Turkes, in so moche, that had

'V 1

40 BOBSBT THB BEUlIJi.

not God and Bobert rescued them, the crysten had ben
an slayne, but whan Eobert was come into the boost
he put him in the moost prese of the Turkes and
faughte and lajde on echo syde on these cursed
houndes ; there a man myg ht haue sene armes, l^gges,
hedes tomble on the grounde» both horse and man
tliat nduer sose after: it was a worlde to se the
murdre that Bobert dyde amonge the dampned doggea
the Sarasyns; so to make shoste tale, Bobert dyde
BO moche, that the Sazasyas were eonstrayned to fiye
awaye and themperouv helde the felde and had the
vyctoiye of them.

How Bobert turned agayne to the iEbrsayd fountayne>
mi there unarmed bym, whan he had thus subdued
and yaynquysshed the Sarasyns and put them to
flyght.

JNTow hath the emperour gotten the felde and thei
honouroy thanked be God, and Bobert iatomed agayne
to the sayd fountayne, and there unarmed hym and
layde the hameys on thehors, whicheincontynent was
Tanyshed awaye that no maxt coude knowe nor perceyue
where he become ; and Bobert bode styU standynge by
thefountayne. Themperour'sdoughterBeynge this had
gvete meruayll of this, and wolde haue tolde it forth
but she was dombe and coude no speke. Bpbert had a
race in his, &ce, whiche he gote in the batayll, but he
was noi^e. otheiwyse hurte ; the emperour was glad, and
&anked Gpd of his viotpry ayenst the fabe doggea the

BOBSBT THB ]>BinriiI>. 41

jSaraeiTniB ; and thus bejnge meiy, he c«me home to his
palajs ; and whan they were all j9et to dyuer, Bohert
presented hymselfe before themperour a^ he was wonte
to doy plajnge the fole, and makjnge hjxn dombe as
afore rehereed is ; the emperonr reiojsed m hjmselfe
whan he se Bobert, for he loued hjm well ; and wbaiiL
he peroejued Bobert's hurte in his face, and thoi^ht
that some of his aeruauntes had hurte hym whyle he
was out, wherfore he was angry, and said : '* Here in
this eourt be some enuyous men, for whyle we haue ben
out at batayle, they haue beten and hurte this poore
innocent oreature in his face, which is grete synne, for
though ha be a fole he dooth no man harme." So
themperour eommaunded them all upon a grete payne
that no man i^lde doo hym harme, yf they dyde they
sholde be punysshed, that all other sholde be ware by
them. Than the emperoure began to axe his knyghtes
yf there were any of them that coude teUe of the knyght
-with the whyte hors that came preuely in to the felde,
and so valyauntely rescued them, themperour's dough-
ter this herynge poynted themperour her fader that it
was Bobert ; but the emperour understode not what his
doughter mente whan she poynted, for she coude not
speke, wherfore he called her maystres to hym, and
axed her what his doughter mente by her poyntynge,
and her maystres answered and sayd : " Tour doughter
menes by her poyntynge that this day ye haue goten
the batayll and yyctorye tbrughe the helpe of your fole
Bobert, and the race that is in his face he hath gotten

42 BOBEBT THE SETTYLL.

it in the batayll." The emperour understandjnge the
mjnde and intent of his doughter, he was angiy and
sajd to her majstres : " Ye sholde teche and leme my
doughter wysdome, and no folye ne penjsnesse where-
withal! I am myscontent." The doughter seynge that
herfader was angry, pointed no more, notwithstandynge
she wyst well that it was trewe that she poynted and
mente, for in as moche as she had sene the aungell
brynge hym the hors and hameys. This remayned in
this wyse a certayne season, and after that the Sarasyns '
were put to flyght by the Eomaynes, as sayd is, yet
came the senesshall agayne with moche more company,
and layde syege to Eome ; and the Bomaynes sholde
haue lost the felde ayen, had not the knyghte on the
whyte horse bene, to whome God sent hors and hamays
as he had done before. To make shorte tale, this
knyght dyde so moche that the Sarasyns were put to
flyght, and the Bomaynes won the felde and vyctorye as
they dyde before. There were some of the emperour's
meyny layde wayte where this knyght became, but as
soone as the batayle was done he was gone no man
coude tell were he was become, sane only the emperour's
doughter whiche se hym at the fountayne agayne un-
armynge hym.

How Bobert gatte the thyrde batayle'as he dyde before

which she kepte secrete.

In a short tyme after this the senesshall toumed agayne
with a moche greter power than he had before, and

■»»

BOBEBT TH£ DEITTLL. 43

lay de Bjege to Eome ; and jet the emperour rode to the
batajle, he commaunded his knyghtes and barones to
take good hede fro whens that knjght came with the
whjte horse, and what he was and where he became, for
he had grete desyre to knowe whathewas. Theknjghtes
answered it sholde be done. The day came that they
must lyde forth to the batayle, and sertayne of the best
knyghtes rode pryuely into a wood that stode a lytell
there besyde, and there they wayted whiche waye the
knyghte on the why te horse sholde come to the batayle ;
but they loste theyr laboure, for they coude not tell
whens he come. But whan they sawe hym in the
batayle, they rode towarde hym to helpe hym and
receyuehym. This same batayle was sore foughten
on bothe partyes, but the Sarasyns lost there courage,
for Bobert layde on soo grete and myghty strokes, that
no man myght stande under his hande ; so that in con^
clusyon Eobert dyde so moche and so valyantly, that
the Sarasyns were put to the dyscomfyture wherof
themperour was gretly enioyed ; the senesshall with the
Sarasyns were passynge angry and sore moued ther-
with all.

How one of the Emperour's knyghtes hurte Eobert in

his thyghe with a spere.

Thak whan thra batayle was done, euery man rode
home, and Bobert wolde haue toumed agayne to the
fountayne to unarme hym as he was wonte to do before,
but the forsayd knyghtes were tomed agayne to the

44 BOBBBT THE DSFTLL.

wood, to awayte for the kn jght with the whjte hors ;
and whan they eawe hym come, they rode all at <nie8
out of the wood, and cryed with a loud yoyoe aaynfe
unto hym : ** noble knyght, tary and apeke with ua,
who that ye be, and wh^is and out of what lande ye
oome, to the enteat that we may sfaewe it to the em-
perour, whiehe speeyally he desyreth for to knowe/'
Bobert this herynge waa sore ashamed, and smote his
whyte hors with his sporree, flyngynge oaeae hylles and
ouer yalleyes, for bycause he wolde not be knowen ;
but there followed hym a bolde knyght, well horsed,
with a spere wenynge to haue kylled hia whyte horsey
but he myste, and amote Bobert in the thyghe with his
spere, and the spere heed brake of and stacke styll in
his thyghe, but yet for all this he coude gete no know*
lege of the knyght with the whyte horse, for he rode
from them all euerychone, whereof they were passynge
sory. Bobert rode so sore, tyU at the kste he came
unto the fountayne and unarmed hym, and layde the
hamays on the horse as he hadde done before, whiehe
in contynente was vanysshed awaye and gone ; and he
drewe out the spere hed out of his thyghe, and hyd it
bytwene two grete stones by the fountayne ; than he
layde grece and mosse upon his wounde, for he durst
let no man loke therto, for fere he sholde haue ben
knowen. And all this sawe and markea the emperour's
doughter ; for bycause she se that Bobert was a fiiyre
and well fauoured yonge knyght, she began to cast her
loue unto hym. And whan Bobert hadde dressed his

i

BOBEIKT THE DEtlTLL. 46

trouudd, h€ caiae in to ike kdley to geto hym some
mete, fUid» be baited aft fy tell ag be coude, and kept it
secretly, tbat almoost no mtok c<mAe pereejue it, and
jirarffired moore payne a tiiouaaikk tysies tbtn it semeth
hy bym. Sbortly ftfter tbis, came bonie tbe knjgbt
tbat bad btcrte Eobert, and begati to recoimte to tben^
perour bow tbe knygbt witb the wbyte borse bad out-
^den bym, and bow be bad burte bym sore ayexuit bici
wyll, and sayd to tbe emperoup : ** I beseebe you, my
lorde empetour, bet>e wbat I sbaU tell you, and in wbat
manerye sbaH knowe wbo* is be tbat batb bolpeti you ;
Itis bestye make* a proclamaey o&' and publysbe t&rogbe-
out youp empyre, and yf tbere be ony knygbt in wbyte
bamays and a wbyte borse tbat be be brougbt to your
presence, and tbat be brynge witb bym tbe spere-beed
wbere witball be was hurte in his tbygbe, sbewynge
tbe wounde, and tbat ye gyve bym youre dougbter toi
wyfe, and balfe youre empyre witb ber.'* Themperour
tbis berynge, was of bis counseyll very gladde, and
incontynentaU baste proelamedandpuUyssbed tbrugbe^
out aH tbe empyre, and tbougbt tbat tbe knygbt bad
gyuen bym* good coxmseyll.

How tbe Senedscball tbruste a spere-^beed in to bis
IdiygbOy wenynge to baue begyledtbeEmperour,.and
ta baue wosine bis dougbter tberby.

trF'befell m sborte tyme after, tbat tbe senesshall bad
knowlege and understandynge of tbe emperour's proM
clamation, and bow be mygbte wynne tbemperour'a

46 BOBEET THE DEUTLL.

doughter, whiche he had many tymes bene about, he
dyde grete djljgence, and caused to be sought and
gotten a whyte horse and white hamajs, and thryste a
spere heed in his thyghe, wenynge therby to deceyue
themperour, and to gete his doughter to wyfe ; and
whan this was done he commaunded all his men to
arme them, and ryde wyth hym to the emperour ; and
he rode so sore tyll he came to Some with great royalte
and solace, and without ony taryenge he rode streyght
to the emperour, saynge to hym in this wyse : " My
lorde I am he that you so valyauntly receyued : thre
tymes I haue caused you to haue honoure and victorye
ayenst the cursed Sarasyns." Themperour thynkynge
upon no treason nor decey te, sayd : " Ye be a valyaunt
and a wyse knyght ; but I had went the contrarye, for
we haue taken you for a vylayne and a forswome
knyght.'* The senesshall was very angry and sore
moued here withall, and answered the emperoure shortly
and angerly : " My lorde emperour, meruayll you no-
thynge here of, for I am not such a cowarde as ye wene
that I be :'' and thus saynge he toke out the spere-heed
and shewed it the emperour, anduncouered the wounde
the whiche he had made hymselfe in hys thyghe. The
knyghte stode by whiche that hurt Bobert before, and
began to compasse in his mynde, for he se well that it
was not the heed of the spere, but he durst saye no-
thynge for fere, lest the senesshall wolde haue kylled
hym. We wyll leue nowe of the senesshall, and speke
of Eobert, which is among dogges, sore wounded, as ye
have herde before.

BOBEBT THE DEITYLL. 47

How G-od sent an aungell to the heremyte that he
sholde goo to Eome and seke Bobert, for he had full
doone his penaimce.

The heremyte whiche ye haue herde of before, that
shroue and sette Eobert his penaunce, laye on a nyght
in his selle and slepte, and thus slepynge there cam to
hym a voyce, and bad hym lyghtly aryse and goo to
Borne, to the place where Bobert was doynge his
penaunce ; and the aungell tolde the heremyte all the
doynges of Bobert, shewynge how that his penaunce
was fully done, and that G-od hadde forgyuen hym his
synnes, wherof the heremyte was uery gladde, and in
the mornynge erly he arose and wente to Rome warde,
and in lyke wyse in the same mornynge the senesshall
rose be tyme and wente to Bome to the emperoure to
desyre and haue his doughter accordynge to the
publycacyon and crye, to the whiche the emperoure
consented her to hym without any longe aduysement.
But whan the doughter imderstode that she was gyuen
to the senesshall she raylled and raged as thoughe she
hadde ben wood and madde ; she tare her hare from her
heed, and all to tare her clothes, but it myght nothynge
auayle her, for she was constrayned, and must be arayed
lyke a bryde, and an emperour's doughter which shold
be maryed, and the emperour ladde her by the hande
hymselfe to the chyrche royally accompanyed with
lordes and ladyes and gentylwomen, but the doughter
made the gretest sorowe of the worlde in so moche that
no man coude content her mynde.

48 BOBBBT THB DX17TLL.

Ho wthe EmperoTu^'s doiaght^r throgbe the grace of Gh>d
began for to speke the fyrst worde that ever she
spake in her Ijfe.

Thait as the emp^rour with all his estate was come in
to the chjrehe, the emperour^s doughter whiehe waa
dumbei sholde marye the senesshall, there djdeourlorde
a fayre myracle, for the loue of the holy man Bobert»
to the entente he sholde be exalted, whome euery body
helde fer a fole and with hym mocked* Whan the
preest sholde begjm the seruyce, and to marye the
senesshall and this yonge mayde togyder, the doughter
thraghe the grace of Gh>d began to speke to the
eroperoure her fader in this wyse : " Fader I holde you
Hot wyse, but fer oner sene in that ye bylene that this
ppoude folysshe traytonre telleth you, for all that he
telleth you is lyes ; but here in this towne is a holy and
deuaute persone, for whose sake God hath gyuen me
my speche, wherfore I loue hym in my h&tte, for I
haue alwaye sene and marked his valyance and holynes,
but noo man wolde byleue me what poyntyng^ or
sygnes thatlmade:" thennetheemperourethisherynge,
was atmoost oute of his mynde for joye, whan he herde
his doughter thus speke, the whiehe neuer spake b^fore^
Irherby he knewe well ynough thait the seilesshldl
hadde betrayed Bind deceyued hym : the senesshsdl thii^
herynge, was wode angry and foule ashamed, and
lyghten upon hief horse ifcnd rode awaye aiid all hiitf
compa&ye. The po{>e beylig presente i»ed the maydea
who the man was that she spoke of, that ihe mayde

BOBEBT THE DEtTYLL. 49

ladde the pope and the emperour her fader to the
fountayne where Eobert was wonte to arme and unarme
hym, and there she toke out the spere heed from
bytwene the two stones where that Eobert had hydde it,
and than she caused the spere for to be brought forth,
where of the heed was broken, whiche was lyghtely
brought to her, and that heed and the spere joynde
togyder in one as does as thoughe they hadde not be
broken, than saydthe mayde to the pope, "we have hadde
thre tymes vyctorye by his noble valyaunce ayenst the
myscredaunte Sarasyns, for I haue thre tymes sene
his horse and hamays wherwith he hath thre tymes
armed and unarmed hym, but I can not tell who brought
hym horse and hamays, nor unto whom he delyuered
it, but I knowe well that whan he hadde this done he
layde hymselfe downe by the dogges "; and the ma} den
sayd unto the emperoureher fader in this wyse, ** This
is he that hathe saued youre landes and youre honoure,
and gate you vyctorye of the Hethen houndes the
Sarasyns, wherfore ye ought of deute to rewarde hym,
and yf it please you we wyU go aU to hym and speke
with hym ;" than wente they for the fole, the emperour
and the doughter with all the lordes and ladyes unto
Eobert, whome they founde lyenge among dogges, they
folowed hym and dyde hym reuerence, but Eobert
answered them not.

How theheremyte found Eobert, and commaunded hym
to speke, saynge to hym, that his penaunce was i^e
done and his synnes forgyuen.

The emperour spake to Eobert and said, " I praye you

VOL. I. E

50 BOBEBT THE DETTYLL.

Bwete &ende come to me and shewe me your thyghe I
wyll nedes se ;" whan Eobeit herde themperour say
these wordes he wyst well ynoughe wherfore he was
comen to hym, but he lete hym as thoughe he had not
understonden hym, and Bobert dyde many madde
conceytes to make the pope and themperour to laughe
and forgate that they spoke of, but the pope spake to
Eobert, and coniured hym in the name of God that on
the oroBse dyed for our redempcyon, that yf it be Goddes
wyll that thou haste spoken that thou speke now unto
us, and than Robert rose up lyke a fole and gaue the
pope his blessynge, and here withall Bobert loked
behynde hym and sawe the heremyte that set hym his
penaunce, and as soone as the heremyte se Bobert
whiche he had longe sought, he cryed to hym with a
loude voyce that every man myght here hym that were
there : " My frende herken unto me, I knowe well
that ye be Bobert that men calle the deuyll, but now
ye be in grace and conceyte with Almyghty God, and
for that foule and hydeous name ye shall haue a fayre
name, and be called the Seruaunte of God, ye be he
that hath saued this lande from the Sarasyns, wherfore
I praye you that ye seme and worshyp God as ye haue
done hyderto, for oure Lorde sendeth me now to you
commaundynge you to speke, and no more to counter-
feyte the fole, for it is Goddes wyll and commaundement,
for he hath forgyuen you all your synnes, for by cans ye
haue made satysfacyon and full done your penaunce :"
whan Bobert herde this he feU lyghtely on his knees
and lyfte up his handes towarde Heuen saynge thus.

BOBEBT THE DBUTLL. 51

'' I gyue laude and thankes to G-od creature of Heuen
and erthe, that it hath pleased the to forgyue me myne
abhomynable and grete synnes thrughe so lytell and
Ijght penaunce that I haue done :" therefore, whan the
pope, the emperour and the doughter, and all that were
there present herde Eobert speke thus swetely, they
were aU heer of gretely enioyed and had grete meruayll
of ; themperoure seynge his noble valyaunce vertue and
curtesye that in hym was and wolde haue gyiien hym
his doughter to wyfe, but the heremyte wolde not it
sholde be so wherfore euery man departed and wente
home.

How Eobert toumed agayne to Some for to marye the
Emperour's doughter by the commaundement and
wyll of God.

Now the storye telleth as after that Eobert had re-
myssyon of his synnes and was gone towarde his
countre, than out of Eome God commaunded hym that
he sholde toume agayne to Eome and marye the
emperour's doughter, whiche loued hym passyngly well,
and he sholde haue by her a sone wherby the Crysten
beleue sholde be encreased and fortefyed and defended.
Eobert at the commaundement of G-od turned agayne
a Eome and maryed themperour's doughter with grete
tryumphe and solace, for themperour and all the
Eomayns were therof very glad, this brydale was
royally kepte and euery man that se Eobert loued hym
aboue all other ; and the people sayd one to another,

52 BOBEBT THE DEUYLL.

that they were gretely beholdynge to Eobert, that he
had redemed them from theyr mortall enmyes the
Sarasyns/ this feest was grete and notable and dured
ziiij dayes, and whan the feest and brydale was done
Eobert wolde departe with his lady into Wormandye to
vysyte his fader and mother, and toke leue of them-
perour whiche gaue hym many royall and grete gyftes,
as golde and siluer and precyoas stones of diuerse
colours, also themperour gaue hym knyghtes and
squyers to ryde and conduyte hym in to his countree.

How Eobert -and his lady cainetoEowaneinNormandye
with grete honour and worship.

EoBEBT and his lady rode soo ferre they came into
Normandy e into the noble cyte of Eowane with grete
myrth and solace, where they were receyued with grete
tryumphe for the comyntees of the countree were
sorye and in grete heuyness that theyr duke Eobert's
fader was dyseased, for bycause that he was a wyse and
a renomed prynce, A lytell besyde dwelled a cursed
knyght, whichehadde done the duchesse grete wronge and
suppressed many knyghtes after her husbondes dysease.
But whan Eobert was come euery man dradde hym
and dyde hym grete reuerence and worshypp, than
some sayd we wende he had ben deed, and aU the
lordes and burgeys of Eowane, gadred them togyder
and with grete honoure and reuerence they receyued
Eobert and helde hym as theyr lorde and souerayne.
And whan they hadde receyued hym honourably they

AOBERT THE DBtTTLL. 63

shewed hym of this before sayd knyght; he hadde
many tymes suppressed, and done wronge to his moder,
sythen the deth of his fader ; than whan Eobert herde
and understode this, he sente lyghtely men of armes to
take the sayd knyght the whiche dyde so moche that
they toke hym and brought hym to Robert whiche
made hym to be hanged, wherfore the duches was ryght
glad, but she was moche more gladder that Bobert her
sone was come home, for she wende he hadde ben deed ;
and whan Robert and his moder were thus togyder, he
recounted unto her how the emperour had gyuen hym
his doughter in maryage, and how he had done his
penaunce, the duchesse herynge her sones wordes, she
began to wepe very sore, for bycause'he had suffred so
grete pouerte and penaunce thrughe his defaute.

How the Emperour sent a messanger unto the Duke
Robert, that he sholde come and rescue hym ayenst
the Senesshall.

Ik the meane season, why les Robert was thus at Rowane
with his moder and his lady in grete joye and solace,
there came a messanger fro the emperour unto Robert
whiche dyde hym reuerence, and saynge thus unto hym:
" My lorde duke, the emperour hathe sente me hyther
to you, and he prayeth you for to come and rescue hym
ayenst the false tray toure the senesshall with the Sara-
syns, which haue layde syege to Rome/* Whan Robert
herde these wordes, he was sorye in his mynde for them-
perour, and shortly assembled as many men of armes as

54 BOBEBT THE DErXLL.

he coude get in bis lande of ^N'ormandje, and forth
withall rode with them towarde Eome, to helpe and
Bocoure the emperour; but before he coude come thjder
the fidse traytour the senesshall had slayne the empe-
rour, which was grete pyte ; but Eobert wente streyght
into Eome, and lyghtly with all his power and myght
went ayenst the senesshall. And whan Eobert aspyed
the &lBe traytoure, he descry ed hym, saynge thus:
" Abyde, thou Mse traytour, now thou shalte neuer
escape my handes yf thou abyde me in the felde, for
thou art now nygh thy lyve's ende ; thou dydest putte
ones a spere-heed in thy thygh for to haue deceyued the
Eomayns, defende now thy lyue ayenst me, for thou
shalte neuer escape myn handes, and thou hast also
slayne my lorde themperoure, wherfore thou shalt be
well rewarded after that thou hast deserued.*' And
with these wordes Eobert, with a grete desyre and
myghty courage, rode unto the senesshall and gaue hym
suche stroke on the helmette, that he clove helmet and
heed unto the teeth, and in contynente the traytour
fell downe deed unto the erth, and Eobert made hym
to be brought in to Eome, to the entente that he sholde
there be slayne to reuenge the Eomayns, the whiche
was done in the presence of all the people that were
iu Eome ; and in this wyse fenysshed that traytour
the senesshall his lyfe, and had a shameful death,
wherby men may make and take hede that it is grete
folye to coveyte or desyre thynges passynge theyr
degre; for and Che senesshall had not desyred the

BOBEBT THE PEITTLL. 55

emperoure's doughter, the whiche passed and exceded
ferre aboue his degree, he had not dyed this shameful
deth, but mvght haue lyued and the emperour abo^ and
haue dyed good frendes.

How that the Duke Eobert toumed agayne to Eowayne
after he had made the Senesshall to be slayne.

SoBEETthe duke defended the cyt^rom theyr enemyes,
and than he retoumed agayne with all his companye
unto Eowane to his wyfe, whiche was passynge sorrow-
full and pensyfe ; but whan she herde that the traytour
the senesshall had slayne her fadier, she was almoost
out of her mynde ; but Bobert's moder comforted her
in the best manor that she coude or myght. And for to
make shortely an ende of our mater, and so to fenysshe
this boke we wyll lette passe to wry te of the grete dole
and sorowe of the yonge duchesse, and speke of the
duke Eobert, whiche in his youth was about to all mys-
chefe and vyce, and all ungracyousnes, without ony
measure or reason, for he was a greter devourer, and a
more vengeable, than any lyon, nothynge sparynge, nor
on no man hauynge mercy nor pyte. And after this he
lyued xii yere in grete penaunce, lyke a wylde man,
without ony speche, and lyke a dimibe beest etynge
and drynkynge with dogges, and there after was he
exalted and honoured of them, whiche before dyde holde
hym for a fole or an innocente, and mocked with hym.
This Eobert lyued longe in vertue and honoure with
that noble ladye his wyfe, and he was beloued and
dradde of hyghe and lowe degre, for he dyde ryght

66 BOBEBT THE DEUYLL.

and justyce, as well ouer the ryche as ouer the poore,
kepynge his lande in reste and in pease, and begote a
chylde with her, and whiche he called Eycharde, whiche
dyde afterwarde many noble actes and dedes of armes
with grete Charlemayne kynge of Fraunce, for he dyde
helpe hym for to gere and fortefye the Crysten fayth,
and he made alwayes grete warre upon the Sarasyns.
And he lyued in his lande in rest and pease, and was
beloued of poore and ryche, and all his comente loued
hym in lykewyse as Eobert his fader was loued, for
they lyued bothe deuoutly and in vertue, wherfore I
praye Gk>d that we may so lyue in this lyfe we may
optayne and come to euerlastynge lyfe. To the whiche
brynge us he that bought us and al mankynde with his
preecyotts blode and bytter passyon. Amen.

Thus endeth the lyfe of Robert the Deuyll,
That was the seroannt of oar Lorde,
And of his condjcyons that was Ml eujll,
Empryated in London by Wynkyn de Worde.

Here endeth the lyfe of the most feerfiillest and nnmercyful-
lest and myscheuous Kobert the Deuyll, whiche was afterwarde
called the Seruaunt of our Lorde Jhesu Cryste. Emprynted in
Flete-stretein the sygne of the sonne, by Wynkyn de Worde.

THOMAS OF READING.

* <

THOMAS OF READING.

** Thomas ofBeadmf, or the 8iwe Wbrthie Yeomen
of the West,** is the production of Thomas Deloney,
a famous ballad maker in his day, in which latter
character he appears to have drawn upon him-
self the indignation of Kemp, (one of the original
actors of Shakspeare). Kemp is celebrated for his
miraculous morris-dance, performed in nine days from
London to Norwich ; but this feat having been misre-
presented in the popular baUads, Kemp thus remon-
strates against our author. "* '' I have made a priuie
" search ; what priuate jig-monger of your jolly num-
*' ber had been the author of these abhominable
" ballets written of me. I was told it was the great
'* ballade-maker, T. D. or Thomas Deloney, chro- *
** nicler of the memorable Lives of the ' Siv Yeomen
" of the West,* * Jack of Newberry* * the Gentle
" Craft,* and such like honest men, omitted by Stowe,
*' Hollinshed, Grafton, Hall, Eroysart, and the rest
'* of those weU-deserving writers."

* See Kemp's Nine Daies Wonder : performed in a Daimoe
from London to Norwich^ edited by the Rev. Alex. Dyce for the
Camden Society.

60 PBEFAGE.

Kemp's description of Delonej's biographies is Mlj
justified by '' Thomas of Beading," which is a mixture
of historical fact and fictitious narration, and may be
compared to the historical novel of modem times ;
for Coates, in his History of Eeading, acknowledges
the existence of our hero, oven while he speaks slight-
ingly of Deloney's history. " The trade of Beading,
** with respect to manufactories, is no longer con-
'' siderable. Thomas Cole, in the time of Edward I.
" (query Henry I.) was called the Bich Clothier of
" Beading. Though his name and reputation occa-
'' sioned a fabulous and childish penny history, called
•' the * History of Thomas of Beading ;' yet we may
<* learn from the circumstance, that Beading was even
'* then famous for its trade of clothing."

Thomas Deloney deserves to be had in remem-
brance by all lovers of our English Popular Literature,
for he has contributed to it very largely, and in some
instances with considerable poetical feeling. Mr.
Dyce describes him as succeeding Elderton, '* as the
most popular ballad writer of his time ;" and that his
productions entitled him to be so considered, will be
admitted by those who remember his very pleasing
ballad of Mdr Rosamond, printed by Percy in his
BeliqiteSf ii. 143, ed. 1794.

PBB7AC1S. 61

Deloney is supposed from the allusion to him made
by Nash in his Save with You to Saffron Walden,
who speaks of him as *' the Balletting Silk Weaver/'
to have been a native of Norwich and a weaver by
trade. The time of his birth is however unknown. His
earliest production which has come down to us is a
ballad, written by him on thct execution of the fourteen
Traitors who were engaged in Babbington's Conspi-
racy in 1586. It is entitled*^* A proper New Ballad
Ireefely declanm^ the Death and Execution of 14 most
wicked Traitors who suffered Death in ImcoVnes Inne
Melde neere London ; the 20 and 21st of September^
1586. To the Time of Weep Weepr This was re-
printed in the Collection of Old Ballads from Mwly
Brinted Copies^ edited by Mr. Collier, which was the
first publication of the Percy Society.

In 1596, Deloney was compelled to evade the search
of the Mayor of London, and the punishment which,
had he been captured, would have awaited him, for
writing '' a certain Ballad, containing a Complaint of
'* great "Want and Scarcity of Com within the Bealm,
*'.... bringiag in the Queen speaking with her people
** Dialogue-wise ; in very fond and undecent Sort."
On which occasion he is described by Stowe, in his
Survey (b. v. 333, ed. 1720), as " an idle fellow, and
" one noted with the like spirit in printing a Book for

62 PBE7ACE.

'^ the Silk Weavers, wherein was fotmd some such like
'^ foolish and disorderly matter."

Deloney did not, however, confine himself to the
issuing of single ballads. We have no less than two
collections of which he is the author ; and, thanks to
the "Percy Society, these once rare volumes are now
accessible to all lovers 'of old Poetry. The first is
Strange Sistories, or Songes and Sonets of Kings,
Princes, Dukes, Lords, Ladyes, Knights and Gentle-
men, being pleasemt either to he read or songe : and a
most excellent warning for all estates, printed in 1607.

The second is, The Oakland of Ghodwill. Divided
into Three Parts, containing many pleasant Songs and
Pretty Poems to stmdry New Notes, which Mr. Dixon,
who edited the Percy Society's Reprint, supposes to
have been printed as early as 1586.

Deloney's prose Histories, are Thomas of Beading,
Jack of Newhery, and The Gentle Craft. Thomas of
Beading, which is here reprinted, must have been
published before 1600, in which year Kemp alluded to
it in his Nine Daies Wonder, but the precise date of
the first edition is not known : and such appears to
have been its popularity that a fourth edition appeared
in 1612, and the sixth, which is the one here reprinted,
in 1632.

The Earl of Ellesmere possesses a copy in 4to.

FBSITAOB. 63

1623, and in the Boxburgh sale *^ The pUasant
Sktory of Thomas qf Beading^^^ 4to. 1636, produced
tSl.l^s.M,

The following entry in the Henslowe MSB. shews
that it was made the subject of a dramatic per-
formance :

12 Nov, 1601. The nx Clothiers of the West, by

Bichard Hathway, "Wentworth Smith
and Wm. Haughton« The second
part of The Six Clothiers by the
same.

Thomas (f Beading hsA, however, been preceded by
two works of similar character. The earliest, " The
pleasant Sistorie of John Winehcomh, in his younger
yeares called Jack of Newbery, the famous and worthy
Clothier of England; declaring his life and love,
together toith his charitable deeds and great Ho^tali"
tie^' &c., entered in the Stationers' Hall as early as 7th
May, 1596, and of which the eighth edition appeared in
1619, 4to.

The third work of this character, for which we are
indebted to Deloney, is The Gentle Crafty a most merry
and pleasant History, not altogether tmprqfitable nor
any way hmtfull ; veryfitte to passe away the tediousness
of the long winters evenings : entered in the Stationers'
Books on the 15th October, 1597, and of which an

64 PBEITAOE.

edition bearing date 1598^ and presumed to be the
first, is extant.

AH three of these books became popular favourites
and eventually — ^which is the best proof of their popu-
lariiy —Penny Chap Books.

Deloney did not long survive the publication of these
Histories ; for Kemp clearly speaks of him as dead in
1600,— "but I was given since to understand your
*' late generale Tho. dyed poorely, as ye all must do,
** and was honestly buried, which is much to be
" doubted of some of you."

"With an epigram on our author, from SMaletheia, or
the Shadowe of Truths printed in 1598, we may bring
our short biography of him to a close.

^* Like to the fatall ominous Kaven, which tolls
The sick man's dirge within his hollow beak,
So every paper-dothed post in Ponies
To thee, Deloney, moumingly doth speke.
And tells thee of thy hempen tragedie:
The wracks of hungry Tybume, nought to thyne,
Such massacres made of thy balladry.
And thou in griefe, for woe thereof must pine.
At every sheet's end Fuscus' rimes are read,
And thine in silence must be buried."^

* Collier's Dramatic Poetry, iii 136. For the materials of this
notice of Deloney, I am indebted in a great measure to the works
of Mr. Collier, and to the Rev. A. Dyce's edition of The Nine
Daiea Wonder,

PBEFACE. 65

Thomas of Beading contains many curious allu-
sions to manners and customs now obsolete; and,
though grounds of origin for several circumstances
are stated which are not strictly borne out by histo-
rical research, much curious information may be
gleaned from it. It would be tedious to illustrate
every point to which our attention might be drawn ;
but the allusion to the GHhbet Law of Salifax, which
was in full force at the time our author wrote, seems
to justify some notice. The custom is supposed to
have originated when the manor of Wakefield (of
which Halifax was part) was bestowed on Earl
"Warren ; for in the reign of King Edward I. at the
pleas of assizes and jurats at the borough of Scar-
borough, John Earl of Warren and Surry, answering
to a writ of qtio warranto, said. That he claimed
GaUows at Coningsburgh and Wakefield, and the

power of doing what belonged to a gallows in all his

lands and fees, and that he and aU his ancestors had

used the same from time immemorial, <&c. The

law or custom as regards Halifax appears to have

been to the effect that,

1st. The thief was to be taken within the liberty,

and if he escaped out of the liberty he could not be

brought back to be executed ; but if ever he returned

again, and was taken, he was sure to suffer, as waa
VOL. I. r

66 PREFACE.

the case with one Lacy, who after his escape lived
seven years out of the Liberty, but venturing back
w^|B beheaded on his former verdict in the year 1623.
This man was not so wise as one Dinnis, who having
been condemned to die, escaped out of the Liberty
on the day intended for his execution (which might
be done by running about five hundred yards), and
never returned thither again ; meeting several people,
they asked him '^ if Dinnis was not to be beheaded
that day P" his answer was, " I trow not," which
having some humour in it, became a proverbial
saying amongst the inhabitants, who to this day use

the expression ^' I trow not, quoth Dinnis."

2d. The fact was to be proved in the clearest
manner, the offender was to be taken either hcmd'
hahend or haekherandy having the stolen goods either
in his hand, or bearing them on his back ; or lastly,
confess and, confessing that he took them.

3d. The value of the goods stolen must amount
to thirteen pence halfpenny, or more.

4th. The accused was to be executed on the first
Saturday after his condemnation, and

5th. When brought to the gibbet he was to have
his head cut off from his body, &c.

Forty-nine persons appear to have been executed
since a list was kept, of which five were in the six

I

FBEFACS. 67

last years of Henry VIII. ; twenty-five in the reign of
Elizabeth ; seven in that of James I. ; ten in that of
Charles I. ; and two during the interregnum.

The proceedings at the trials of the last male&c-
tors, viz. Abraham Wilkinson and Andrew Mitchel,
who suffered at Halifax gibbet on the 30th of April,
1650, are preserved in an account of Halifax, pub-
lished by William Bentley, London, 1708 ; and in
the Eev. Mr. Watson's History of Halifax, fipom which
this account is taken, and where much curious matter
is to be found, illustrative not only of the gibbet law
of Halifax, but of the first gibbets and guillotines used
in this country.

THOMAS

OF

READING

OB.

THE SIXE WORTHIE YEOMEN

OF THE WEST.

NOW THB SIXTH TIME OOHBBCTBD ASJ> ENLARGED

Bt T. D.

Thov shalt laboyr till ihoy.retyme to drste.

LONDON,

PBINTED BT BLIZ. ALLDE FOB
BOBEBT BIBD.

1632.

I

THE PLEASANT HISTORIE OF THE

SIXE WORTHY YEOMEN

OF THE WEST.

Ik the dayes of King Henry the first, who was the first
king that instituted the high Court of Parliament, there
liued nine men, which for the trade of Clothing, were
famous throughout all England. Which Art in those
dayes was held in high reputation, both in respect of
the great riches that thereby was gotten, as also of the
benefit it brought to the whole Common-wealth : the
yonger sons of knights and Gentlemen, to whom their
Fathers would leaue no lands, were most commonly
preferred to leame this trade, to the end, that thereby
they might liue in good estate, and driue forth their
days in prosperity.

Among all Crafts this was the onely chiefe, for that
it was the greatest merchandize, by the which our Coun-
try became famous thorowout all Nations. And it was
verily thought, that the one halfe of the people in the
land lined in those dayes therby, and in such good sort.

72 THE FLEASAKT HISTOEIE

that in the Common-wealth there were few or no beggera
at all : poore people, whom Q-od lightly blessed with
most children, did by meanes of this occupation so order
them, that by the time that they were come to be sixe or
seuen yeeres of age, they were able to get their owne
bread : Idlenesse was then banished our coast, so that
it was a rare thing to heare of a thiefe in those dayes.
Therefore it was not without cause that Clothiers were
then both honoured and loued, among whom these nine
persons in this kings dayes were of great credit, to.
Tho. Cole of Eeading, Gray of Glocester, Sutton of
Salisburie, Fitzallen of Worcester, (commonly called
William of Worcester) Tom Done of Excester, and
Simon of South-hampton, alias Supbroth: who were by
the King caUed,The sixe worthy Husbands of the West.
Then were there three liuingin the North, that is to say,
Cutbert of Kendall, Hodgekins of Hallifax, and Martin
Byram of Manchester. Euery one of these kept a great
number of seruants at worke, spinners, carders, weauers,
fullers, dyers, sheerement, and- rowers, to the great
admira^n of all those that came into their houses to
behold them.

!Now you shall vnderstand, these gallant Clothiers,
by reason of their dwdling places, separated themselues
in three seuerall companies: Gray of Glocester, William
of Worcester, and Thomas of Eeading, because their
ioumey to London was all one way, they conuersedcom-
monly together: And Doue of Excester, Sutton of Salis-
burie, and Simon of South-hampton, they inlike sort kept

07 THOMAS 01* BEJLDnra. 73

companj the one with the other, meeting euer all toge-
ther at Bazingstoke: and the three Northeme Clothiers
did the Hke, who commonly did not meet till they came
to Bosomes Inne in London.

Moreover, for theloue and delight that theseWesteme
men had each in others companie, they did so prouide,
that their Waines and themselues would euer meet upon
one day in London at larrats Hall, sumamedthe Oyant,
for that hee surpassed all other men of that age, both
in stature and strength: whose merriments and memor-
able deeds I will set downe vnto you in this following
discourse.

How King Henry sought the fauour of all his subiects
especially of the Clothiers. Chap. 1.

This King Henry, who for his great learning and wis-
dome was called Beauderke, beeing the third Son to the
renowned Conquerour : after the death of his brother
William Euffiis, tooke vpon him the gouemment of this
Land, in the absence of his second brother Eobert Duke
of Normandie, who at this time was at wars amongst the
Lifidels, and was chosen King of Jerusalem, the which
he, for the loue he bare to his owne country, refused,
and with great honour returned from the holy Land ; of
whose comming when King Henry vnderstood, knowing
hee would make claime to the Crowne, sought by all
meanes possible to winne the good will of his Nobility,
and to get the fauor of the Commons by courtesie : for
the obtaining whereof hee did them many fauours.

74 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

thereby the better to strengthen himselfe against his
brother.

It chanced on a time, as he, with one of his sonnes,
and diners of his Nobilitie, rode from London towards
Wales, to appease the fury of the Welshmen, which
then began to raise themselves in armes against his
authority, that he met with a great number of Waines
loaden with cloth, comming to London, and seeing them
still driue one after another so many together, de-
manded whose they were : the Waine-men answered in
this sort : Coles of Eeading (quoth they.) Then by and
by the King asked another saying : Whose cloth is all
this ? Old Coles, quoth hee : and againe anon after he
asked the same questions to others, and still they an-
swered, Old Coles. And it is to be remembred, that
the king met them in such a place so narrow and
streight, that hee with the rest of his traine, were faine
to stand as close to the hedge, whilest the carts passed
by, the which at that time being in number aboue two
hundred, was neere hand an hour ere the King could get
roome to be gone : so that by his long stay, he began
to be displeased, although the admiration of that sight
did much qualifie his furie ; but breaking out in discon-
tent, by reason of his stay, he said, I thought Old Cole
had got a Commission for aU. the carts in the Country
to cary his cloth. And how if he haue (quoth one of the
Wainmen) doth that grieue you good sir ? Yes, good
sir, said our King, what say you to that ? The fellow
seeing the King (in asking the question) to bend his

OF THOMAS OF BFADINa. 75

browes, though he knew not what he was, yet being
abasht, he answered thus : Why sir, if you be angry, no
body can hinder you ; for possible sir, you haue anger
at commandement. The king seeing him in vttering
of his words to quiuer and quake, laughed heartily at
him, as well in respect of his simple answere, as at his
feare : and so soone after the last Wain went by, which
gaue present passage vnto him and his Nobles : and
thereupon entnng into communication of the com-
moditie of cloathing, the king gaue order at his home
retume, to have Old Cole brought before his Maiestie,
to the intent he might haue conference with him,
noting him to be a subiect of great abilitie : but by that
time he came within a mile of Staines, he met another
company of waines, in Hke sort laden with cloth, where-
by the king was driven into a further admiration : and
demanding whose they were, answere was made in this
sort : They be good-man Suttons of Salisbury, good
sir ; and by that time a score of them were past, he
asked againe, saying; whose are these; Suttons of
Salisbury, qd. they, and so still, as often as the king
aaked that question, they answered, Suttons of Salis-
burie. God send me many such Suttons, said the king.
And thus the farther he trauelled Westward, more
Waines and more he met continually: ypon which occa-
sion he said to his Nobles, That it would neuer grieue a
king to diefor the defence of a fertile Countrie and faiths
ful subiects. lalwayes thought (quoth he) that Englands
valorwas more than her wealth, yet now I see her wealth

76 THE PLEASANT HI8T0BIS

sufficient to maintaine her valour, whieli I will seeke to
cherish in all I may, and with my sword keepe my selfe
inpossessionof that I haue, KingsandLouerscan brooke
no partners: and therefore let my Brother Bobert
thinke, that although hee was Heir to England by birth,
yet I am King by possession. All his fEkuourers I must
account my foes, and will serue them as I did the vn-
gratefull Earle of Shrewsbury, whose lands I haue
seized, and banisht his body. But now we will leaue
the king to his ioumey into "Wales, and waiting hishome
retume, in the meane time tell you the meeting of these
iolly Clothiers at London.

How William of Worcester, Gray of Gloucester, and
old Cole of Eeading, met altogether at Eeading, and
of their communication by the way as they rode to ^
London. Chap. 2.

When Gray of Glocester, and William of Worcester
were come to Eeading, according to their custome, they
alwayes called old Cole to haue his companie to London,
who also duely attended their comming, hauing pro-
uided a good breakefast for them : and when they had
well refreshed themselues, they tooke their horses and
rode on towards the Citie : and in their iourney Wil-
liam of Worcester asked them if they had not heard of
the Earle of Moraigne his escape out of the Land ?
^hat is he fled qd. Gray ? I muse much at this matter,
being in such great regard with the King as he was : but
I pray you, doe you not know the cause of fiis going.

OF THOMAS OT BEADING^. 77

qd. Cole ? The common report, quoth Gh»y, is this,
that the couetous Earle, who through a greedy desire,
neuer left begging of the King for one thing or other,
and his request being now denied him, of meere obsti-
uBoy and wilMl frowardnesse, hath banished himselfe
out of the Land, and quite forsaken the Country of
Cornwall, hauing made a vow neuer to set foote within
England againe, and as report goeth, he with the late
banisht Earl of Shrewsbury, haue ioyned themselues
with Bobert Duke of Normandy, against the King, the
which actions of theirs hath inflamed the Kings wrath,
that their Ladies with their children are quite turned
out of doores succourlesse and friendlesse, so that it is
told me, they wander vp and downe the Country like
forlome people, and although many doe pitie them, yet
few doe releeue them.

A lamentable hearing, qd. WilHam of Worcester, and
with that casting their eyes aside, they espyedTomDoue
with the rest of his companions come riding to meete
them, who as soone as they were come thither, fell into
such pleasant discourses, as did shorten the long way
they had to Colebroke, where alwayes at their comming
towards London they dined : and being once entred into
their Lme, according to olde custome, good cheere was
prouided for them: for these Clothiers were the chiefest
guests that trauailed along the way : and this was as
sure as an act of Parliament, that Tom Doue could not
digest his meat without musicke, nor drinke wine without
women, so that his hostesse being a merry wench, would

78 th:e pleasant hibtobib

oftentimes call in two or three of her neighbours wiiies
to keepe him company, where, ere they parted, they
were made as pleasant as Pies. And this being a cou-
tinuall custome amongst them when they came thither,
at length the womens husbands beganne to take excep-
tions at their wiues going thither : whereupon great
controuersie grew betweene them, in such sort, that
when they were most restrained, then they had most
desire to worke their wills : now gip (quoth they) must
we be so tyed to our taske, that wee may not drinke with
our friends P fie, fie, vpon these yeUow hose ; wiU no
other die seme your tume? haue wee thus long bin your
wiues, and doe you now mistrust vs? verily you eate too
much salt, and that makes you grow cholericke, badde
liucrs iudge all others the like, but in faith you shall not
bridle vs so like asses, but wee will goe to oulr friends,
when we are sent for, and doe you what you can. WeD,
quoth their husbands, if you be so head-strong, we will
tame you : it is the duty of honest women to obey their
husbands sayings. And of honest men (quoth they) to
thinke well of their wiues ; but who doe sooner empeach
their credit, then their husbands, charging them, if they
doe but smile, that they are subtill ; and if they doe but
winke, they account them wily : if sad of countenance,
then sullen : if they be froward, then they are counted
shrewes : and sheepish if they bee gentle: if a woman
keepe her house, then you wiU say shee is melancholy,
if shee walke abroade, then you call her a gadder ; a
Puritane, if she be precise ; and a wanton, if .shee be

i

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. 79

pleasant : so there is no woman in the world that knowes
how to please you : that we thinke our selues accurst to
be married wiues, lining with so many woes. These men,
of whose company you forewame vs, are (for ought that
euer we saw) both honest and courteous, and in wealth
farre beyond your selues : then what reason is there,
why we sho^d restraine to visit them ? is their good
will so much to be requited with scome, that their cost
may not be counteruailed with our company? if a woman
be disposed to play light of loue, alas, alas doe you
thinke that you can preuent her ? Nay, wee will abide
by it, that the restraint of liberty inforceth women to be
lewd : for where a woman cannot be trusted, she cannot
thinke her selfe beloued, and if not beloued, what cause
hath she to care for such a one P therefore husbands,
reforme your opinions, and doe not worke your owne
woes, with our discredit. The Clothiers, we tell you,
are ioUy fellowes, and but in respect to our courtesie,
they would scome our company.

The men hearing their wiues so well to plead for
themselues, knew not how to answere, but said, they
would put the burden on their consciences, if they deale
vniustly with them, and so left them to their owne wills.
The women hauing thus conquered their husbands con-
ceits, would not leaue the £a,uour of their friends for
frownes, and as aboue the rest Tom Done was the most
pleasantest, so was he had in most reputation with the
women, who for his sake made this Song :

Welcome to Towne, Tom Done, Tom Douc,
The merriest man aliue,

80 THS PLEASASTT HISTOBIE

Thy company still we loue, we loue,

God grant thee well to thrine,

And neuer will (we) depart from thee,

For better or worse, my ioy,

For thon shalt still haue our good will,

Gods blessing on my sweet Boy.

This Bong went vp and downe through the whole
Country, and at length became a dance amAng the com-
mon sort, so that Tom Doue, for his mirth and good
fellowship, was famous in euery place. Now when they
came to London, they were welcome to the Oast larrat
the Gyant, and as soone as they were alighted, they
were saluted by the Merchants, who waited their com-
ming thither, and alwayes prepared for them a costly
supper, where they commonly made their bargaine, and
vpon euery bargaine made, they still vsed to send some
tokens to the Clothiers wiues. The next morning they
went to the hall, wherethey mettheNortherne Clothiers,
who greetedone another in this sort. What, my Masters of
the West, well met: what cheere? what cheere? Euenthe
best cheere our Merchants could make vs: (quoth Gray.)
Then you could not chuse but fare well, quoth Hodge-
kins : and you be weary of our company, adieu, quoth
Sutton : Not so, said Martin, but shall wee not haue a
game ere wee goe ? Yes faith for an hundred pounds.
Well said, old Cole, said they : and with that Cole and
Gray went to the Dice with Martin and Hodgekins,
and the Dice running on Hodgekins side. Coles money
began to waste. Now by the masse, quoth Cole, my
money shrinkes as bad as Northeme cloth. When they

OF THOMAS OF BEABTNO. 81

had played long, Gray stept to it, and recouered againe
the money that Cole had lost. But while they were
thus playing, the rest being delighted in contrary
matters euery man satisfied his owne humour.

Tom Doue called for musicke, William of "Worcester
for wine, Sutton set his delight in hearing merry tales,
Simon of South-hampton got him into the kitchin, and
to the pottage pot he goes, for he esteemed more a messe
of pottage, then of a venizon pasty. Now sir, Cutbert
of Kendall was of another mind, for no meate pleased
him so well as mutton, such as was laced in a red petti-
coate. And you shall vnderstand, that alwayes when
they went to dice, they got into Bosomes Inne ; which
was so called of his name that kept it, who being a foule
slouen, went alwayes with his nose in his bosome, and
one hand in his pocket, the other on his staffe, figuring
forth a description of cold Winter, for he alwayes wore
two ooates, two caps, two or three paire of stockings, and
a high paire of shooes, ouer the which he drew on a
great paire of lined slippers, and yet would oft com-
plaine of cold wherefore of all men generally he was
called Old Bosome, and his house Bosomes Inne.

This lump of cold ice had lately married a young
wife, who was as wily as she was wanton, and in her com-
pany did Cutbert onely delight, and the better to make
passage to his loue, he would often thus commune with
her : I muse, good wife, quoth he. G-ood wife, quoth
she : Verily sir, in mine opinion, there is none good but
God, and therefore call me Mistresse. Then said Cut-

TOL. I. a

82 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

bert, Faire Mistris, I haue often muded, that you being
a proper woman, could find in your heart for to match
with such a greazie Carle as this, an euill mannered
mate, a foule lump of kitchin-stuffe, and such a one as
is indeede, a scome of men ; how can you like him that
all women mislikes P or loue such a loathsome creature ?
me thinks verily it should grieue you to lend him a kisse,
much more to lie with him. Indeed sir, quoth she, I had
but hard fortune in this respect, but my friends would
haue it so, and truly my liking and my loue toward him
are alike, he neuer had the one, nor neuer shall get the
other : yet I may say to you before I married him, there
were diners proper young men that were sutors ynto
me, who loued mee as their lines, and glad was he that
could get my company, those were my golden dayes,
wherein my pleasure abounded, but these yeeres of care
and griefe, wherin my sorrowes exceede. Now no man
regards mee, no man cares for me, and albeit in secret
they might beare mee good-will, yet who dares shew it ?
and this is a double griefe, he carries ouer me so iealous
a minde, that I cannot looke at a man, but presently he
accuseth me of iuconstancy, although (I protest) with*
out cause.

And in troth, qd. Gutbert, he should haue cause to
complaine for somewhat, were I as you. As sure as I
Uue, and so he shall, quoth she, if he doe not change
his byas. Cutbert hearing her say so, began to grow
further in requesting her fauour, wishing he might be
her seruant and secret friend, and the better to obtaine

OF THOMAS OF BBADIKG. SS

his desire, he gaue her diuers gifts, insomuch that she
began something to lissen ynto him : and albeit she
liked well of his speeches, yet would she blame him,
and take him yp very short sometimes for the same, till
in the end, Gutbert shewed himselfe to be desperate,
saying hee would drowne himselfe rather than liue in
her disdaine. O my sweet heart not so, quoth shee,
God forbid I should be the death of any man : Comfort
thy selfe, kind Cutbert, and take this kisse in token of
fiirther kiadnesse, and if thou wilt haue my fauour,
thou must be wise and circumspect, and in my husbands
sight I would alwayes haue thee to find fault with my
doings, blame my bad huswifries, dispraise my person,
and take exceptions at euery thing, whereby he will be
as well pleased, as Simon of South-hampton with a
messe of pottage.

Deare Mistresse, quoth he, I will fulfill your charge
to the vttermost, so that you will not take my iest in
earnest. Shee answered, Thy foulest speeches I will
esteeme the fairest, and take euery dispraise to be a
praise from thee, turning each word to the contrary :
and so for this time adieu« good Cutb. for supper time
drawes neere, and it is meet for me to looke for my
meat. With that down comes old Bosome, calling his
wife, saying, Ho Winifred, is supper ready ? they haue
done playing aboue : therefore let the Chamberlaine
couer the Table. By and by, qd. she, it shall be donis
straight-way. How now my Masters who wins, qd.
Cuthert ? Our money walkes to the West, qd. Martin :

84 THB PLXA8AKT HISTOEIE

Cole hafh woone 40 pounds of me, and Gray hath gotten
well : the beat is qd. Hodgekins, they will pay for our
supper: then let yb haue good store of Sacke, qd.
Sutton. Content said Cole, for I promise you, I striue
not to grow rich by Dice-playing, therefore call for
what you will, I will pay for all. Yea said Simon !
Chamberlaine, I pray thee bring a whole bottle of
pottage for me. Now Tom Done had all the fiidlers at a
becke of his finger, which follow him vp and down the
City, as diligent as little chickens after a hen, and made
a TOW, that there should want no Musicke. And at that
time there lined in London a Musician of great reputa-
tion, named Seior, who kept his seruants in such costly
garments, that they might seeme to come before any
Prince. Their coates were all of one colour ; and it is
said, that afterward the Kobility of this Land, noting it
for a seemely sight, vsed in like manner to keepe their
men aU in (me Uuery. This Eeior was the most skil-
fullest Musician that lined at that time, whose wealth was
very great, so that all the Listruments whereon his ser-
uants plaid, were richly garnished with studdes of siluer,
and some gold : the bowes belonging to their Yiolines
were all likewise of pure siluer. Hee was also for his
wisedome called to great Office in the City, who also
builded (at his owne cost) the Priory and Hospital of
S. Bartholomew in Smithfield. His seruants being the
best consorts in the City, were by Tom Done appointed
to play before the young Princes. Then supper being
•brought to theboord, they all sat down, and by and by

OT THOMAS OF BEASIKG. 85

after comes vp their Oast, who tooke his place among
them : and anon after, the good wife in a red peticote
and a waistcoate, comes among them as white as a Lilly,
saying. My Masters, you are welcome, I pray you be
merry. Thus fjolling close to their meate, when they
had well fed, they found leysure to talke one with
another : at what time Cutb. began thus to finde fault,
Ywis, my Oast, quoth he, you haue a wise huswife
to your wife, heere is meate drest of a new fashion ?
G-od sends meate, and the deuil sends cooks. Why
what ailes the meate, quoth she, serues it not your
tumes P better men then your selfe are content withaU,
but a paultry companion is euer worst to please. Away,
you sluttish thing, qd. Gutbert, your husband hath a
sweet Jewell of you : I maruell such a graue ancient
man would match himselfe with such a young giglot
that hath as much handsomenes in her, as good huswifiry,
whicn is iust nothing at all. Well sir, said^shee, in
regard of my husbands presence, I am loth to aggrauate
anger, otherwise I would tell thee thy owne. Gtoe to,
what needs all this, quoth the company ? in good faith,
Cutbert, you are to blame, you find &ult where none is.
Tush, I must speake my mind, quoth Cutbert, I cannot
dissemble,! trust the good man thinkes neuer the worse
of me : so I haue his good wiU, what the foule euill care
I for his wifes. Enough, quoth Tom Doue,'let vs with
Musicke remoue these brabbles, we meane to be merry,
and not^melancholy. Then said old Cole, Now trust
me, Cutbert, we will have your Oastesse and you

86 THE PLEASAITT HI8TQBIS

friends ere we part : here woman I drinke to you, and
regard not his words, for he is babbling wheresoeuer he
comes. Quoth the woman, Nothing grieues me so much,
as that hee should thus openly checke mee : if he had
found any thing amisse, he might haue spied a better
time to tell mee of it then nowe, ywis he need not thrust
my bad huswifrie into my husbands head, I liue not so
quietly with him, God wot : and with that she wept.
Gome Cutbert, quoth they, drinke to h^, and shake
hands and be friends. Gome on, you puling bi^gage,
quoth he, I drinke to you, here will you pledge mee
and shake hands P No, (quoth shoe) I will see thee
choackt first, shake hands with thee ? I will shake hands
with the deuiU as soone. Goe to, said her husband, you
shall shake hands with him then : If you will not shake
hands, He shake you : what, you young huswife P "Well,
husband, said she, it becomes a woman to obey her
husband, in regard whereof, I drink to him. Thats well
said, quoth the company : and so she tooke her leave
and went downe. And within a while after they paid
the shot, and departed thence to larrats Hall, where
they went to their lodging ; and the next day they
tooke their way homeward alltogether : and comming to
Golebrooke, they tooke yp their lodging : and it was
Goles custome to deliuer his money to the good wife of
the house to keepe it till morning, which in the end
turned to his ytter destruction, as hereafter shall be
shewed.

or THOMAB 07 SEADllTe. 87

How Qrays wife of Glocester, with one or two more of
her neighbours went to the Eaire, where seruants
came to be hired, and how she tooke the Earle of
Shrewesburies Daughter into her Sendee, Chap. 3.

It was wont to be an old custome in Glocestershire, that
at a oertaine time in the yeere, all such young men and
Maidens as were out of seruicei resorted to a faire that
was kept neere G-locester, there to be ready for any that
would come to hire them, the young men stood all on a
row on the one side, and the maidens on the other. It
came to pass, that the Earle of Shrewsburies daughter,
whose father was lately banished, being driven into
great distresse, and weary with trauell, as one whose
delicate life was neuer vaed to such toyle, sate her
downe vponthe high*way side, making this lamentation:

O false and deceitfull world, quoth she ! who is in
tiiee thjtt wishes not to be rid of thee, for thy eztremiti^
foe great ? Thou art deceitfull to all, and trusty to
none. Fortuner is thy treasurer, who is like thy selfe,
wauering and ynconstant, she setteth yp tyrants, beateth
downe Kings : giueth shame to some, and renowne to
others: Fortune giueth these euils, and we see it
not : with her hands she toucheth vs, and we feele it
not ; she treades vs vnd^ foot, and we know it not ; she
speakes in our eares, and we heare her not ; she cries
aloud, and we vnderstand her not : And why P because m

we know her not, yntil misery doth make her manifest.

Ah my deare.&ther, well maist iiiou.doe. Of all

88 THE PLEASAl^T HISTOBIB

misfortunes it is most ynhappy to be fortunate : and by
this misfortune came mj fall. Was euer good Ladjr
brought to this extremity ? "What is become of my rare
Jewels, my rich aray, my sumptuous fare, my waiting
seruants, my many friends, and all my yaine pleasures P
my pleasure is banisht by displeasure, my friends fled
like foes, my seruants gone, my feasting turned to fast-
ing, my rich array consumed to ragges, and my iewela
decke out my chiefest enemies : therefore of all things
the meanest state is best, pouerty with surety, is better
than honour mixed with feare : seeing 6od hath allotted
me to thia misery of life, I wiU frame my heart to em-
brace humility, and carry a mind answerable to my mis-
fortunes, fie on 4;his vaine title of Ladiship, how little
doth it auaile the distressed P No, no, I must therefore
forget my birth and parentage, and think no more on
my fathers house, where I was wont to bee serued, now
will I leame to serue, and plaine Meg shall be my name,
good Lord grant I may get a good sendee, nay any ser-
uice shall serue, where I may haue meat, drinke, and
apparell. She had no sooner spoken these words, but
she spied a couple of maidens more comming towards
her ; who were going to the fS^ire : and bidding her good
morrow, asked her if she went to the faire. Yea mary
qd. she I am a poor mans child that is out of seruice,
and I heare that at the Statute, folkes doe come of pur-
pose to hire seruants. True it is, said the Maidens, and
thither goe we for the same purpose, and would be glad
of your company. With a good will, and I am right

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. 89

glad of yours, said she, beseeching you good Maidens,
you will doe me the fauour, to tell me what sendee were
best for me : for the more too blame my parents, they
would neuer put me forth to know any thing. Why
what can you doe (quoth the Maidens?) can you brew
and bake, make butter and cheese, and reape come
well : No verily, said Margaret, but I would be right
glad to leame to doe any thing whatsoeuer it be. If
you could spin or card, said another, you might do ex-
cellent well with a Glother, for they are the best seruices
that I know, there you shall be sure to fare well, and
so line merrily.

Then Margaret wept, saying, alas, what shall I doe P
I was neuer brought yp to these thingsu What, can you
doe nothing, quoth they P No truly (quoth she) that is
good for any thing, but I can read and write, and sowe,
some skilll have in my needle, and a little on my Lute:
but this, I see will profit me nothing. Good Lord, quoth
they, are you bookish P wee did neuer heare of a Maide
before that could reade and write. And although you
can doe no other thing, yet possible you may get a
sendee, if you can behaue your selfe manerly. I pray
you qd. another, seeing you are bookish, will you doe so
much as to reade a loue*letter that is sent me P for I
was atafriends of mine with it, and he was not at home,
and so I know not what is in it. I pray you let me see
. it, quoth Margaret, and I will shew you. Whereupon
she readeth as followeth«

90 THX PLXASAKT HISTORIB

O lenny my ioj, I die for thy loae,
And now I heare say that thoa do6t remoue :
And therefore, lenny, I pray thee recite.
Where flhall I meete thee soone at night.

Per why, with my Master no more will I stay,
Bat for thy lone I will mnne away :

lenny, lenny, thou pattest me to paine,
That thoa no longer wilt here remaine.

1 will weare oat my shooes of Neats-leather,
Bat thoa and I will meete together,

And in spight of Fortane, Bat, or Moase,
We will dwell together in one hoose.

For who doth not esteeme of thee.
Shall haae no sendee done of me:
Therefore good lenny haae a care.
To meete poore Fri^ment at the fiiire.

Now alas, good soule (quoth lenny) I thinke he be
the kindest young man in the world. The rest answer-
ed, that he seemed no lesse, and surely it appeareth
that he is a pretty witty fellow, quoth one of them, how
finely hee hath written his letter in rime, trust me, I
will giue you a good thing, and let me baue a copy of it
to send to my sweet-heart : that you shall with all my
heart : and so comming to the faire, they tooke vp their
standing.

Within a while after, goodwife Gray of Glooester
came thither to store her selfe of diuers commodities ;

OT THOMAS or BBADHrtt. 91

and when shee had bought what she wonldj she tddlier
neighbour she had great need of a maid-semant or
twaine ; therefore, qd« she, good neighbour goe with me,
and let me haue your opinion. With a good will, said
her neighbour, and together thej went, and looking and
viewing the maidens ouer, she tooke speciall notice of
Margaret. Beleeue me, quoth shee, there stands a
Y&cy proper maiden, and one of a modest and comely
countenance. Verily, said her neighbour, so she is, as
euer I looked vpon.

The maiden seeing them to view her so well, was so
abashed, that a scarlet colour overspred her lilly dieekes,
which the woman peroeiuing, came vnto her, and asked
if she were willing to seme. The maid with a low cur-
tesie, and a most gentle speech, answered, it was the
onely cause of her comming. Can you spinne or card,
said good- wife Gray ? Truly Dame, said she, though
my cunning therein be but small, my good ,will to
leame is great, and I trust, my diligence shall content
you. What wages will you take, quoth good-wife Gray ?
I will ref^rre that, said Margaret, to your conscience
and courtesie, desiring no more then what I shall de-
serue. Then asking what Country-woman she was, the
maiden wept, saying: Ah good Dame, I was yntimely
borne in Shropshire, of poore parents, and yet not so
needy as vnfortunate, but death hauing ended their
sorrowes, hath left me to the cruelty of these enuious
times, to finish my Parents Tragedy with my troubles.
What ? maiden qd. her dame, haue you a care to doe

92 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

your buflines, and to Hue in Gods feare, and you shall
haue no care to regard fortunes frownes, and so they
went home together.

Now, so soone as the good-man saw her, hee asked
his wife where she had that maiden ? She said, at the
Eaire. Why then quoth he, thou hast brought all the
faire away, and I doubt it were better for vs, to send the
faire to another Towne, then to keepe the faire here.
Why man, quoth she, what meane you by that? Woman,
I meane this, that she will proue a Loadstone, to draw
the hearts of all my men after her, and so we shall haue
wise service done of all sides. Then said his wife, I
hope, husband, Margaret will have a better care both to
her owne credit, and our commodity then so, and so let
her alone to looke to such matters. Is thy name Mar-
garet, quoth her Master P proper is thy name to thy
person, for thou art a pearle indeed, orient, and rich in
beauty.

His wife hearing him say so, began to change her
opinion : What husband (quoth she) is the wind at that
doore P Begin you to like your maid so well ? I doubt
I had most need to looke to your selfe: before Qod, I
had rather then an angell I had chosen some other :
but heare you maid, you shall packe hence, I will not
nourish a Snake in my bosome, and therefore get you
gone, I will none of you, prouide a sendee where you
may.

The maiden hearing her say so, fell downe on her
knees, and besought her, saying, sweet dame, be not

OF THOMAS OF BBADIKO. 9^

80 cmell to me, to tume me ont of doores, now: alas, I
know not where to goe, or what to doe, if you forsake
me. O let not the fading beauty of my face dispoile me
of your fauour : for rather then that shall hinder my
sendee, this my knife shall soone disfigure my face, and
I will banish beauty as my greatest enemy. And with
that, h» aboundant teares stopped her speech, that shee
could not vtter one word more.

The woman seeing this, could not harbour any
longer, nor could her Master stay in the roome for
weeping. Well, Margaret, said her dame (little know-
ing that a Lady kneeled before her) vsing thy selfe
well I will keepe thee, and thou shalt haue my
good will, if thou goueme thyselfe with wisedome ;
and so she sent her about her businesse. Her hus-
band comming to supper, said, How now wife,
art thou so doubtfuU of me, that thou hast put away thy

praising of a maidens beauty before her face : and you
a wise woman, qd. he, to grow iealous without a cause.
Soto supper they went, and because Margaret shewed
her selfe of finest behauiour aboue the rest, she was
appointed to waite on the table. And it is to be vnder-
stood, that Gray did neuer eate his meat alone, but still
had some of his neighbours with him, before whom he
called his maid, saying, Margaret, come hither. Now
because there was another of the same name in the
house, she made answer. I call not you, maiden, quoth
he, but Margaret with the lilly-white hand. After which
time she was euer called so.

94 THS PLEASA19T HISTORIE

How tie Kings Maiestie sent for the Clothiers, and of
the sundry. £siuours which he did them. Chap. 4.

KiKG- Henry prouiding for his voyage into Prance,
against King Lewis and Bobert Duke of Normandie his
owne brother,committed the Oouemment of the Bealme
in his absencOi to the Bishop of Salisbury, a man of
great wisedome and learning, whom the king este^ned
highly, and afterward he thought good to send for the
chiefe Clothiers of England, who according to the kings
appointment came to the Court, and hauing licence to
come before his MaiestiO} he spake to this effect.

The strength of a King is the loue and friendship of
his people, and he gouemes ouer his Bealme most
surely, that ruleth iustice with mercy : for he ought to
feare many, whom many doe feare : therefore the
Gfouemors of the Common-wealth ought to obserue two
speciall precepts : the one is, that they so maintaine
the profit of the Commons, that whatsoeuer in their
<»lling they doe, they referre it thereunto : the other,
that they be alwayes as well carefull ouer the whole
Common-wealth, as ouer any part thereof; lest, while
they Tphold the one, the other be brought to vtter decay.

And forasmuch as I doe vnderstand, and haue partly
seene, that you the Clothiers of England are no small
benefit to the wealth publike, I thought it good to know
fiom your owne mouthes, if there be any thing not yet
granted that may benefit you, or any other thing to be
remoued that doth hurt you.

OT THOMAS 07 BEADING^. 95

. The great desire I haue to tnaintaine you In your
trades, hath moued me hereunto. Therefore boldly say
what you would haue in the one thing or the other, and
I will grant it you.

With that, they all fell downe vpon their knees, and
desired God to saue his Maiestie, and withall, requested
three dayes respit to put in their answere : which wa&r
graunted. And thereupon they departed.

When the Glothiers had well considered of these
matters^ at l^igth they thought meete to request of his
Maiestie for their first benefit, that all the Clothe
measmres thorow the Land might be of one lengthy
whereas to their great disaduantage before, euery good
towne had a seuerall measure, the difficulty thereof was
such, that they could not keepe them in memory, nor
know how to keepe their reckonings. The second thing
whereof they found themselues grieued, was this, that
the people woidd not take craekt money, though it were
neuer so good siluer ? whereupon it came to passe, i^t
the Glothiers and diuers others, receiuing gr^t summes
of money, doe take among it much craekt money, it
serued them to no vse, because it would not goe currant,
but lay vpon their hands without profit or benefit,
whereof they prayed reformation. The third was a
griefe, whereof Hodgekins of Halifax complained, and
that was, That whereas the Towne of HaUfaz lined al«
together vpon Cloathing, and by the reason of fisdse
borderers, and other euill minded persons, they were oft
robbed, and had their clothes carried out of their fieldes.

96 THS PLEASANT HISTORIB

where they were drying : That it would please his Ma-
iestie to graunt the Towne this priuilege, That what-
soever he was that was taken stealing their Cloth, might
presently without any further tryall be hanged up.
When the day of their appearance approached, the
Clothiers came before the King, and deliuered vp their
petition in writing, which his Maiestie most graciously
perusing, said, hee was ready to fufill their request :
and therefore for the first point of their Petition, he
called for a staffe to be brought him, and measuring
thereupon the iust length of his owne arme, deliuered it
to the Clothiers, saying. This measure shall be called a
yard, and no other measure thorowoiit all the Bealme of
England shall be ysed for the same, and by this shall
men buy and sell, and we will so prouide, that whoso-
euer he be that abuseth our subiects by any false mea-
sure, that he shall not onely pay a fine for the same to
the E^ing, but also haue his body punished by imprison-
ment. And as concerning the second point of your
Petition, because of my sudden departure out of the
Land, I know not better how to ease you of this griefe
(of crackt money) this Decree I make, because they
account crackt money not currant, I say, none shall be
currant but crackt money. And therefore I will giue
present charge, that all the money thorow the Land shall
be slit, and so you shall suffer no losse.

But now for your last request for the Towne of
Halifax ; where by theeues your Clothes are so often
fltolne from you, seeing the Lawes already prouided in

OF THOMAS OV BBADIKO. 97

that case, are not sufficient to keepe men in awe, it is
indeed high time to haue sharper punishment for them.

With that Hodgekins ynmannerlj interrupted the
Ejng, saying in broad Northeme speech. Yea gude faith,
mai Liedg, the faule eule of mai saule, gift any thing
will keepe them whiat, till the karles be hanged by the
cragge. What the dule care they for bearing their
eyne, sea lang as they may gae groping vp and downe
the Country like fause lizar lownes, begging and
crakingP

The King smiling to heare this rough-hewne fellow
make this reply : Content thee Hodgekins, for we will
have redresse for all : and albeit that hanging of men
was never scene in England, yet seeing the corrupt
world is growne more bold in all wickednesse, I thinke
it not amisse to ordain this death for such male&ctors :
and peculiarly to the towne of Halifax I giue this pri-
uilege. That whosoeyer they finde stealing their Cloth,
being taken with the goods, that without further iudge-
ment, they shaU. be hanged vp.

Thus (said our King) I haue granted what you re-
quest, a^d if hereafter you find any other thing that
may be good for you, it shall be granted ; for no longer
would I desire to Hue among you, then I have care for
the good of the Common-wealth : at which words ended,
the king rose from his BoyallThrone, while the Clothiers
on their knees prayed for both his health, and happy
successe, and shewed themselves most thankefiill for his
Highnesses fauour. His Maiestie bending his body

VOL. I. H

98 THE PLEA.SAirT HISTOBIE

towards them, that at his home retume, hee wonld (by
the grace of Ghod) visit them.

How the Clothiers had prouided a sumptuous feast for
the Kings sonnes, Prince William and Prince Eobert,
at Grerards Hall; shewing ^o what chance befell
Cutbert of Kendall at that same instant. Chap. 5.

The Clothiers departing from the Court in a merry
mind, ioyfull of their good successe, each one to other
praised and magnified the Kings great wisedome and
vertue, commending also his affability and gentle dis-
position, so that Hodgekins affirmed on his faith, that
hee had rather speake to his Ejuigs Maiestie, then to
many Justices of peace. Indeed (said Cole) he is a
most mild and mercifull Prince, and I pray Q-od he may
long raigne over vs. Amen said the rest.

Then said Cok, My Masters, shall we forget the
great courtesie of the Kings sonnes, those sweet and
gentle Princes, that still showed us fauour in our suite P
in my opinion, it were reason to gratifie them in some
sort, that we may not vtterly bee condemned of ingra-
titude, wherefore (if you thinke good) we will prepare a
banquet for them at our Oast Gh,rrats,who as you know,
hath a faire house, and goodly roomes : Besides, the
man himselfe is a most courageous mind and good be-
hauiour, sufficient to entertain a Prince : his wife also is
a dainty fine Cooke : all which considered, I know not a
fitter place in London. Tis true, quoth Sutton, and if
the rest be content, I am pleased it shall be so. At

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. 99

this they all answered, Tea, for quoth they, it will not
be passing forty shillings a piece, and that we shall re-
couer in our crackt money.

Being thus agreed, the feast was prepared. Tom
Doue, quoth they, we will commit the prouiding of
musicke to thee ; and I, said Cole, will inuite diners
of our Merchants and their wiues to the same. That is
well remembred, said Q-ray, Upon this they called to
the Oast and Oastesse, shewing their determination,
who most willingly said, aU things should be made
ready, but I would haue two dayes liberty, said the
good wife, to prepare my house and other things. Con-
tent, said the Clothiers, in the meane space we will bid
our guests, and dispatch our other affaires. But Simon
of Southampton charged his Oastesse, that in any case
she should not forget to make good store of pottage. It
shall be done, quoth she.

It is to be remembred, that while this preparation
was in hand, that Cutb. of Kendall had not forgot his
kindnes to his Oastesse of Bosomes Inne. Therefore
finding time conuenient when her husband was ouersee-
ing his hay-makers, hee greeted her in this sort. Sweet
Oastesse, though I were the last time I was in towne,
ouer-bold with you, yet I hope it was not so offensiue to
you, as you made shew for. Bold, my Cutbert ? quoth
she, thou hast vowed thy selfe my seruant : and so being,
you are not to bee blamed for doing what I wild you.
By my honesty, I could not chuse but smile to my selfe,
so soone as I was out of their sight, to thinke how

100 THB FLEASAKT HISTOBIE

prettily jou began to brabble. But now, quoth he, we
will change our chidings to kissings, and it yexeth me
that these cherry HppB should be subiect to such a Lob-
cocke as thy husband.

Subiect to him, quoth she : In faith sir, no, I will
haue my lips at as much liberty as my tongue, the one
to say what I list, and the other to touch whom I like :
In troth, shall I tell thee, Cutbert, the churles breath
smels so strong, that I care as much for kissing of him,
as for looking on him : it is such a mis-shapen mizer,
and such a bundle of beastlinesse, that I can neuer
thinke on him without spitting. Fie ypon him, I would
my friends had carried me to my graue, when they went
with me to the Church, to make him my husband. And
BO shedding a few dissembling teares, she stopt. What,
my sweet Mistresse (quoth he) weepe you ? Nay sit
downe by my side, and I will sing thee one of my
Countrey liggesto make thee merry. "Wilt thou in faith
(quoth shee) ? Yes verily, said Cutbert : and in troth,
quoth she, if you fall a-singing I will sing with you. That
is well you can so suddenly change your noteS| quoth
Cuthbert, then haue at it.

Man. Long haue I lou'd this bonny Lasse,
Yet dnrst not shew the same.
Won. Therein you proue jour selfe an Asse,
Mak. I was the more to blame.

Tet still will I remaine to thee,

Trang dilly do, trang dilly:
Thy friend and louer secretly,
WoM. Thou art my owne sweet bully.

OP THOMAd OP BEADIKG. 101

Han. But when shall I enioy thee,

delight of thy'faire lone?
WoH. Eaen when thou seest that fortune doth

all manner lets remone.
Man. O, I will fold thee in my armes,

Trang diUy do, trang dilly,
And keepe thee so from sudden harmes.
WoM. Thou art my owne sweet bully.

WoM. My husband he is gone from home,

you know it very well
Man. But when will he retume againe?
WoM. In truth I cannot tell.

If long he keepe him out of sight,

Trang dilly do, trang diUy.
Be sure thou shalt haue thy delight.
Man. Thou art my bonny lassie.

While they were singing this song, her husband being
on a sadden come home, stood secretly in a comer and
heard all, and blessing himselfe with both his hands,
said, abominable dissimidation, monstrous hypocrisie,
and are you in this humour ? can you brawle together
and sing together ? Well, qd. hee, 1 will let them alone,
to see a little more of their knauery. ]^euer did Cat
watch Mouse so narrowly, as I will watch thom : And
so going into the kitchin, he asked his wife if it were not
dinner time. Euen by and by, husband (quoth she) the
meat will be ready. Presently after comes in Hodge-
kins and Martin, who straight asked for Cutbert of

102 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

Kendall. Answer was made, that he was in his chamber.
So when they had called him, they went to dinner : then
they requested that their Oast and Oastesse would sit
with them.

Husband, said she, you may goe if you please : but
as for me, I will desire pardon. Nay, good-wife, goe vp,
said her husband. What woman, you must beare with
your guests. Why husband, qd. she, doe you thinke
that any can beare the flirts and fromps, which that
Northeme tike gaue me the last time he was in towne ;
now G-od forgiue me, I had as liefe see the diuell as to
see him : therefore good husband goe vp your selfe, and
let me alone, for in faith, I shall neuer abide that Jacke
while I Hue. Upon these words away went her husband,
and though he- said little, he thought the more. Now
when he came vp, his guests bade him welcome. I pray
you sit downe, good mine Oast, quoth they, where is
your wife ? What will she sit with vs ? No verily, said
he, the foolish woman hath taken such a displeasure
against Cutbert, that she sweares she will neuer come in
his company. Is it so, said the other P then trust me
we are well agreed : and I sweare by my fathers sale,
qd. hee, that were it not meete for good will to you,
then loue to her, I would neuer come to your house
meere. I beleeue it well, said old Bosome. And so
with other communication they droue out the time, till
dinner was ended.

After they were risen, Martin and Hodgekins got
them forth about their affaires, but Cutb. tooke his Oast

or THOMAS OT BEADING. 103

by tlie hand, saying, My Oast, He goe talke with your
wife ; for my part I thought we had bin friends : but
seeing her stomacke is so big, and her heart so great, I
will see what she will say tome; and with that he stept
into the kitchin, saying, Gj-od speed you Oastis. It must
be when you are away then, said she. What is your
reason, said the other? Because G-odneuer comes where
knaues are present. Grip goodly draggletaile, qd. he,
had I such a wife, I would present her tallow-&ce to the
deuill for a candle. With that she bent her browes, and
like a Fury of hell began to flie at him, saying, Why
you gag-tooth Jacke, you blinking companion, get thee
out of my kitchin quickly, or with my powdred beefe-
broth, I will make your pate as bald as a Fryers.

Ghet me gone, quoth he ? thou shalt not bid me twice :
out you durty heeles, you will make your husbandshaire
growe thorow his hood I doubt: and with that he got
him into the Hall, and sat him downe on the bench by
his Oast, to whom he said : 'Tis pittie, my Oast, that
your aged yeeres that loues quietnesse, should be trou-
bled with such a scolding queane. I, Gl-od helpe me,
G-od helpe me, quoth the old man, and so went towards
the stable : which his wife watching, suddenly stept out
and gaue Cutbert a kisse.

Within an houre after, the old man craftily called for
his Nag to ride to field : but as soone as he was gone^
Cutbert and his Oastesse were such good &iends, that
they got into one of Ware-houses, and lockt the doore to
them: but her husband hauing set a spie for the purpose,

104 THE PLEASANT HIBTOBIE

suddenly turned baeke, and called for a capcase which
laj in the Warehouse. The seruant could not find the
key by any meanes. Whereupon hee called to haue the
locke broke open. Which they within hearing, opened
the dooreoftheirowne accord. So soone as her husband
espied her in that plaoe^ with admiration he said: O
passion of my hearty what doe you here? what, you two
that cannot abide one another ? what make you so dose
together? is your chiding and rayling, brabling, and
brauling, come to this P O what dissemblers are these 1
Why, my Oast, qd. Cutbert, what need you take the
matter so hot P I gaue a Cheese to my Goimtry-man
Hodgekinsy to lay yp, and deliuered it to your wife to be
keept ; and then is it not reason, that she should come
and seeke me my Cheese P O, quoth the old man, belike
the dore was lockt, because the Cheese should not run
away. The doore said his wife vnknowne to ys dapt to
it selfe, and hauing a spring locke, was presently fast.
Well, huswife, qd. he, I will giue you as much credit aa
a Crocadile, but as for your companion, I will teach him
to come hither to looke Cheeses.

And with that he caused his men to take him pre*
sently, and to bind him hand and foot. Which being
done, they drew him vp in a basket into the smoky louer
of the hall, and there they did let him hang all that
night, euen till the next day dinner time, when he should
haue beene at the banquet with the Frinces: for neither
Hbdgekins nor Martin could intreat their inflamed Oast
to let him downe.

ii

OT TH03CAB OF BEADIlfG. 105

And in such a heate was liee driuen with drawing
him yp, that he was faine to cast off his gownes, his
coatesy and two paire of his stockings, to coole himselfe»
making a vowhe should hang there seuen yeeres, except
the Kings sons came in person to beg his pardon, which
mostofallgrieuedCutb. WhenColeandtherestofthe
Westeme- Yeomen heard hereof they could not chnse
but laugh, to thinke that he was so taken tardy.

The young Princes hauing giuen promise to be with
the clothiers, kept their houre, but when all the rest
went to giue them entertainment, Simon was so busie in
supping his pottage, that he could not spare so much
time. Which when the Princes saw, with a smiling
countenance they said. Sup Simon, theres good broth :
or else beshrew our Oastesse, quoth he, neuer looking
behind him to see who spake, till the Prince dapt him
on the shoulder. But good Lord, how blanke he was
when hee spied them, knowing not how to excuse the
matter.

Well, the Princes hauing ended their banket, Garrat
comes and with one of his hands tooke the table of six-
teene foote long quite from the ground ouer their heads,
from before the Princes, and set it on the other side of
the hall, to the great admiration of all them that
beheld it.

The Princes being then ready to depart, the Clothiers
moued them in pleasant maner, to be good to one of
their company, that did neither sit, lie, nor stand. Then
hee must needs hang, qd. the Princes. And so he doth.

106 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

most excellent Princes, qd. they ; and therewitliall told
them the whole matter. When they heard the storie,
dovme to Bosomes Inne thej goe, where looking vp into
the roofe, spied poore Cutbert pinned vp in a basket,
and almost smoaked to death, who although hee were
greatly ashamed, yet most pitifully desired that they
would get him release.

What is his trespasse, said the Prince ? Nothing if it
shall like your Grace, qd. he, but for looking for a
cheese : But hee could not find it without my wife, said
the good-man: the villaine had lately dined with mutton,
and could not digest his meate without cheese, for which
.cause I haue made him to fast these twenty houres, to
the end he may haue a better stomacke to eate his
dinner, then to vse dalliance.

Let me intreate you, quoth the Prince, to release
him : and if euer hereafter you catch him in the come,
clappe him in the pownd. Your Grace shall request or
command any thing at my hand, said the old man : and
so Cutbert was let downe vnbound, but when he was
loose, he vowed neuer to come within that house more.
And it is said, the old man Bosome ordained, that in
remembrance of this deed, euery yeere once all such as
came thither to aske for cheeses, should be so serued ;
which thing is to this day kept.

OF THOMAS or BEAI)IN€^. 107

How Simons wife of Southampton, being wholly bent to
pride and pleasure, requested her husband to see
London, which being granted, how she got good-wife
Sutton of Salisbury to goe with her, who tooke Crab

• to go along with them, and how he prophecied of
many things. Chap. 6.

The Clothiers being all come from London, Suttons*
wife of South-hampton, who was with her husband very
mery and pleasant, brake her mind vnto him in this
sort:

G-ood Lord, husband, will you neuer be so kind as
let me goe to London with you ? shaU I be pend vp in
South-hampton, like a Farrat in a cage, or a Capon in a
coope ? I would request no more of you in lieu of all
my paines, carke and care, but to haue one weeks time
to see that faire City : what is this life, if it be not mixt
with some delight ? and what delight is more pleasing
then to seethe fashions and maners of vnknowne places?
Therefore good husband, if thou louest me deny not this
simple request. You know I am no common gadder,
nor haue oft troubled you with trauell. God knowes,
this may be the last thing that euer I shall request at
your hands.

"Woman, quoth he, I would willingly satisfie your
desire, but you know it is not conuenient for both of vs
to be abroad, our charge is so great, and therefore our
care ought not not be smaU. If you will goe your selfe,
one of my men shall goe with you, and money enough

• Qu. Simon's. f Q^- ^*

108 THE FLEA.SAl!rr HISTOBIX

you shall haue in your purse : but to goe with you my
selfe, you see my businesse will not permit me.

Husband, said she, I accept your gentle offer, and it
may be I shall intreat my gossip Sutton to goe along
with me. I shall be gladqd. her husband, prepare your
selfe when you will.

When she had obtained this licence, she sent her
man Welsell to Salisbury, to know of good-wife Sutton
if shee woidd keepe her company to London. Suttons
wife being as willing to goe, as she was to request,
neuer rested till she had gotten leaue of her husband ;
the which when she had obtained, casting in her mind
their pleasure would bee small, being but they twaine :
thereupon the wily woman sent letters by collericke
Crabbe her man, both to G-rayes wife, and Fitzallens
wife, that they would meet them at Beading, who liking
well of the match, consented, and did so prouide, that
they met according to promise at Beading, and from
thence with Coles wife they went all together, with each
of them a man to London, each one taking vp their
lodging with a seuerall friend.

"When the Merchants of London vnderstood they
vere in towne, they inuited them euery day home to
their owne houses, where they had delicate good cheere :
and when they went abroad to see the commodities of
the City, the Merchants wiues euer bore them company,
being attired most dainty and fine : which when the
Clothiers wiues did see, it grieued their hearts they had
not the like.

OF TH03CAS OF BEADIKO. 109

Now, when they were brought into Cheap-side, there
with great wonder they beheld the shops of the Gold-
smiths ; and on the other side, the wealthy Mercers
whose shops shined with all sorts of coloured silkes : in
Watling-street they viewed the great number of Drapers :
in Saint Martins, Shoemakers : at Saint Nicholas Church,
the flesh shambles ; at the end of the old Change, the
Eish-mongers : in Candleweek-street, the "Weauers :
then came into the lewes-street, where all the lewes did
inhabite : then came they to Blackwel-hall, where the
Country Clothiers did vse to meete.

Afterwards they proceeded, and came to S. Pauls
Church, whose steeple was so hie, that it seemed to
pierce the clowdes, on the top whereof, was a great and
mighty "Weather-cocke, of cleane siluer, the which not-
withstanding seemed as small as a sparrow to mens eyes^
it stood so exceeding high, the which goodly Weather-
cocke was afterwards stolne away, by a cunning Cripple,
who found meanes one night to clime vp to the top of
the steeple, and tooke it downe : with the which, and a
great summe of money which he had got together by
begging in his life time, he builded a gate on the North
side of the City, which to this day is called Cripple-
gate.

From thence they went to the Tower of London,
which was builded by lulius CaDsar, who was Emperour
of Eome. And there they beheld salt and wine, which
had lyen thereeuer since theBomanesinuad^d thisLand,
which was many yeeres before our Sauiour Christ was

110 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

borne, the wine waa growne so thicke, that it might
haue beene cut like a lelly. A^d in that place also thej
saw the money that was made of leather, which in an-
cient time went currant amongst the people.

When thej had to their great contentation beheld all
this, they repaired to their lodgings, hauing also a"
sumptuous supper ordained for them, with all delight
that might be. And you shall vnderstand, that when
the Country Weauers, which came up with their dames^
saw the Weauers of Candlewike-street, they had great
desire presently to haue some conference with them ;
and thus one began to challenge the other for worke-
manship : quoth Weasell, He worke with any of you all
for a crowne, take if you dare, and he that makes his
yard of cloth soonest, shall haue it. You shall be
wrought withall, said the other, and if it were for ten
crownes : but we will make this bargaine, that each of
vs shall winde their owne quilles. Content, quoth
Weasell : and so to worke they went, but Weasell lost.
Whereupon another of them tooke the matter in hand,
who lost likewise : so that the London Weauers trium-
phed against the Country, casting forth diners frumps.

Alas poore fellowes, quoth they, your hearts are
good, but your hands are ill. Tush the fault was in
their legs, quoth another, pray you friend, were you not
borne at home ? Why doe you aske, quoth Weasell ?
Because, said hee, the biggest place of your legge is
next to youm shooe.

Crab hearing this, being Cholericke of nature, chafed

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. Ill

like a man of Law at the Barre, and he wagers with
them four crownes to twaine : the others agreed, to
worke they go : but Crab conquered them all. Where-
upon the London Weauers were nipt in the head like
birds, and had not a word to saj.

Now, saith Crab, as we haue lost nothing, so you
haue wonne nothing, and because I know you cannot be
right "Weauers, except you be good-fellowes, therefore if
you will goe with vs, we will bestow the Ale vpon you.
That is spoken like a good-fellow and like a Weauer,
quoth the other. So along they went as it were to the
signe of the red Crosse.

When they were set downe, and had drunke well^
they began merrily to prattle, and to extoll Crab to the
skies. Whereupon Crab protested, that hee would come
and dwell among them. Nay, that must not be, said a
London Weauer: the King hath giuenvspriuiledge,that
none should Hue among us, but such as serue seuen
yeeres in London. With that Crab, according to his old
maner of prophesying, said thus :

The day is very neere at hand,
When as the King of this faire Land,
Shal prioiledge yon more then so :
Then Weauers shall in skarlet goe.

And to one brotherhood be brought,
The first is in London wrought,
When other Trades-men by your fame,
Shall couet all to doe the same.

112 THE PLEASJlKT HISTOBIS

Then shall you all line wondrous well,
But this one thing I shall yon tell:
The day will come before the doome,
In Candleweek-street shall stand no loome.

Nor any Weaner dwdling there,
Bnt men that shall more credit beare :
For Clothing shall be sore decayde,
And men vndone that yse that trade.

And yet the day some men shall see,
This trade agame shall raised be.
When as Bay hffe of Samm towne ;
Shall bay and purchase Bishops downe.

When there neuer man did sow,
Great store of goodly come shall grow;
And Woad, that makes all colours sound.
Shall spring vpon that barren ground.

At that same day I tell you plaine,
Who so aliue doth then remaine,
A proper Maiden they shall see,
Within the towne of Salisbnrie.

Of fauonr sweet, and nature kind,
With goodly eyes, and yet starke blind.
This poore blind Maiden I do say,
In age shall goe in rich aray.

And he that takes her to his wife.
Shall lead a ioyfoll happy life.
The wealthiest Clothier shall he be.
That euer was in that Countiy.

OS' THOMAS OF BEAJOnTG. 113

But clothing kept as it hath beene,
la London neuer shall be seene :
For Weauers then the most shall win.
That worke for clothing next the skin.

Till pride the Common -wealth doth peele,
And canseth hnswines leane their wheele,
Then ponerty ypon each side,
Ynto those workemen shall betide.

At that time, from Eagles nest,
That proudly bnilded in the West,
A sorte shall come with cmming hand,
To bring strange weaning in this Land,

And by their gaines that great will fall.
They shall maintaine the Weauers Hall:
But long they shall not flourish so,
But folly will them ouerthrow.

And men shall count it mickle shame,
To beare that kind of Weauers name.
And this as sure shall come to passe,
As here is Ale within this glasse.

When the silly soules that sate about him heard him
speakeinthis sort, they admired, and honoured Crabbe
for the same. Why my masters, said Weasell, doe you
wonder at these words P he will tell you twenty of these
tales, for which cause we call him our canuas Prophet :
his attire fits his title, said they, and we neuer heard the
like in oiir lines : and if this should be true, it would be
strange. Doubt not but it will be true, qd. Weasell ;

VOL. I. 1

114 THB PLEASAHT HISTOBIX

for Be tell you what, he did but once see otlr Nicke
kiBse Nel, and presently he powred out this rime :

That kiflM, O Nell, God gine thee ioj,
Will nine monthB hence breed thee a boy.

And lie tell you what, you shall heare : we kept
reckoning, and it fell out iust as Jones buttockes on a
dose stoole, for which cause our maids durst neuer kisse
a man in his sight ; ypon this they broke company, and
went euery one about his business, the London Weauers
to their framesiand the Country fellowes to their Dames,
who after their great banqueting and merriment, went
euery one home to their owne houses, though with lesse
money than they brought out, yet with more pride.

Especially Simons wife of South-hampton, who told
the rest of her gossips, that she saw no reason, but that
their husbands should maintaine them, as well as the
Merchants did their wiues : for I tell you what, quoth
she, we are as proper women (in my conceit,) as the
proudest of them all, as handsome of body, as faire of
face, our legs as well made, and our feet as fine : then
what reason is there (seeing our husbands are of as good
wealth,) but we should be as well maintained.

You say true gossip, said Suttons wife : trust me, it
made me blush, to see them braue it out so gallantly,
land wee to goe so homely : but before God said the other,
I will haue my husband to buy me a London gowne, or
in fiiith he shall haue little quiet : fio shall mine said
another : and mine too, qd. the third : and all of them

OF THOMAS OF BEADIKG. 115

mng the same note: so that when they came home, their
husbands had little to doe: Especially Simon, whose wife
Asalj lay at him for London apparell, to whome he said,
Good woman,be content, letus goe according to our place
aud ability : what will the Bailiffes thinke, if I should
pranc^e thee up like a peacocke, and thou in thy attire
surpasse their wiues P they would either thinke I were
mad, or else that I had more money then I could well
vse, consider, 1 pray thee good wife, that such as are in
their youth masters, doe proue in their age starke
beggars.

Besides that, it is enough to raise me vp in the kings
booke, for many times, mens coffers are iudged by their
garments : why, we are Country folks, and must keepe
our selues in good compasse : gray russet, and good
hempe-spun cloth doth best become vs; I tell thee wife,
it were as vndecent for vs to goe like Londoners as it is
for Londoners to goe like courtiers.

What a coyle keepe you, quoth she ? are wenot Gods
creatures as well as Londoners P and the kings subiects,
as well as they ? then finding our wealth to be as good
as theirs, why should we not goe as gay as Londoners?
No, husband, no, here is the fault, wee are kept without
it, onely because our husband be not so kind as Lon-
doners : why man. a cobler there keepes his wife better
then the best Clothier in this Countrey : nay, I will
affirme it, that the London Oyster-wiues, and the very
kitchin-stuffe cryers, doe exceed vs in their Sundaies
attire : nay, more then that, I did see the Water-bearers

116 THE PLEA8AFT HISTOBIB

wife which belongs to one of our Merchants, come in
with a Tankerd of Water on her shoulder, and yet halfe
a dozen gold rings on her fingers. You may then thinke^
wife (quoth he) she got them not with idlenesse.

But wife, you must consider what London is, the
chiefe and capitall City of all the Land, a place on the
which all strangers cast their eyes, it is (wife) the Kings
Chamber and his Maiesties royall seate : to that City
repaires all Nations ynder heauen. Therefore it is most
meete and conuenient, that the Citizens of such a City
should not goe in their apparell like peasants, but for
the credit of our Country, weare such seemely habits,
as doe carry grauity and comelinesse in the eyes of all
beholders. But if wee of the Country went so (quoth
she) were it not as great credit for the Land as the
other? "Woman, qd. her husband, it is altogether
needlesse, and in diuers respects it may not be. Why
then, I pray you, quoth she, let us go dwell at London.
A word soone spoken, said her husband, but not so
easie to be performed : therefore wifei I pray thee hold
thy prating, for thy talk is foolish : yea, yea husband,
your old churlish conditions wiU neuer be left, you keepe
me heerelikeadrudge and a droile,and so you may keepe
your money in your purse, you care not for your credit,
but before I will goe so like a shepheardesse, I will first
goe naked : and I tell you plaine, I scome it greatly^
that you should clap a gray gowne on my backe^ as if I
had not brought you two pence : before I was married,
you swore I should haue any thing that I requested, but

07 THOMAS or BEADING. 117

now all is forgotten. And in saying this» she went in,
and soone after she was so sicke, that needes she must
goe to bed : and when she was laid, she draue out that
night with many grieuous groanes, sighing and sobbing,
and no rest she could take God wot. And in the morn-
ing when shee should rise, the good soule fell downe in a
swowne, which put her maidens in a great flight, who
running downe to their master, crjed out ; Alas, alas,
our 'Dame is dead, our Dame is dead. The good-man
hearing this, ran yp in all hast and there fell to rubbing
and chafing of her temples, sending for aqua yitsd, and
aajing, Ah my sweet-heart, speake to me, good-wife,
alacke, alacke: call in the neighbours, you queanes,quoth
he. With that she left yp her head, fetching a great
groane, and presently swouned againe, and much a doe
ywis, he had to keepe life in her : but when she was
come to her selfe. How dost thou wife, qd. he? What

wilt thou haue P for Gods sake tell me if thou hast a

«

mind to any thing, thou shalt haue it. Away dissembler
(qd. she) how can I beleeye thee ? thou hast said to
me as much a hundred times, and deceiued me, it is thy
churlishnesse that hath killed my heart, neuer was
woman matcht to so ynkind a man.

Nay, good- wife, blame me not without cause ; G-od
knoweth how heartily I lone thee. Lone me ? no, no,
thou didst neuer carfy my loue but on the tip of thy
tongue, quoth she, I dare sweare thou desirest nothing
so much as my death, and for my part, I would to God
thou hadst thy desire; but be content, I shall not trouble

118 THE PL£ASAirT HI8T0BIS

thee long ; and with that fetching a sigh» ehee swouned
and gaue a great groane. The man seeing her in this
case, was woundrous woe : hut bo soone as they had re-
conered her, he said, O mj deare wife^ if any had conceit
hath ingendered this sicknesse, let me know it ; or if
thouknowst any thing that may procure thy healthy let
me vnderstand thereof, and I protest thou shalt haue it,
if it cost me all that euer I haue,

hushand, quoth she, how may I credit your words,
when for a paltry sute of apparell you denyed me ?
Well, wife, quoth he, thou shalt haue apparell or any
thing else thou wilt request, if Gtod send thee once
health. husband, if 1 may find you so kind, I shall
thinke my selfe the happiest woman in the world, thy
words haue greatly comforted my heart, mee thinketh
if I had it, I could drinke a good draught of fienish
wine. Well, wine was sent for : O Lord, said she, that
I had a piece of chicken, I feele my stomache desirous
of some meate : Glad am I of that, said her husband,
and so the woman within a few dayes after was very
well.

But you shall vnderstand, that her husband was fiune
to dresse her London-like, ere he could get her quiet,
neither would it please her except the stuffe was bought
in Cheapside : for out of Gbeapside nothing would con-
tent her, were it neiier so good : insomuch, that if she
thought a Taylor of Cheapside made not her gowne, she
would sweare it were quite spoiled.

And hauing thus wonne her husband to her will.

01* THOMAS 07 BEADIKG. 119

vrhen the rest of the Clothiers wiues heard thereof, they
would be suted in the like sort too ; so that euer since,
the wiues of South-hampton, Salisbury, of Glocester,
Worcester, and Beading, went all as gallant and as braue
as any Londoners wiues.

How the Clothiers sent the King aide into France, and
how he ouercame his brother Bobert, and brought
him into England, and how the Clothiers feasted his
Maiesty and his sonne at Beading. Chap. 7.

Ths Kings Maiestie being at the warres in Prance,
against Lewis the French £ing, and Duke Bobert of
]N'ormandy, sending for diners supplies of Souldiers out
of England, the Clothiers at their owne proper cost set
out a great number, and sent them oner to the King.

Which Boger Bishop of Salisbury, who gouemed the
Bealme in the Kings absence, did certifie the King
thereof, with his letters written in their commendations.

And afterwards it came to passe, that God sent his
Highnes victory ouer his enemies, and hauing taken his
brother prisoner, brought him most ioyfully with him
into England, and appointed him to be kept in Cardife
Castle prisoner, yet with this fauour, that he might hunt
and hawke where he would, vp and downe the Country,
and in this sorte hee lined a good while, of whom we will
speake more at large hereafter.

The Sjing being thus come home, after his Winters
rest, he made his Summers progresse into the West-
countrey, to take a view of all the chiefe Townes :

120 THE FLBABAKT HI8T0RIB

whereof the Clothiers being aduertised,they made great
preparation against his comming, because he had pro-
mised to visit them all.

And when his Ghrace came to Beading, he was enter-
tained and receiued with great ioy and triumph: Thomas
Cole being the chiefe man of regard in aU the Towne,
the King honored his house with his Piincelj presence,
where during the Kings abode, he, and his sonne, and
Nobles were highly feasted.

There the King beheld the great number of people,
that was by that one man maintained in worke, whose
hearty affection and loue toward his Maiestie did
well appeare, as well by their outward countenances,
as their gifts presented vnto him. But of Cole him-
selfe the King was so well perswaded,that he committed
such trust in him, and put him in great authority
in the Towne. Furthermore the King said, That for
the loue which those people bore him lining, that hee
would lay his bones among them when he was dead.
Eor I know not, said he, where they may be better be-
stowed, till the blessed day of resurrection, then among
these my friends which are like to be happy partakers of
the same.

Whereupon his Maiestie caused there to be builded a
nfbst goodly and famous Abbey : in which he might
shew his deuotion to Qod, by increasing his seruice, and
leaue example to other his successors to doe the like.
Likewise within the towne he after builded a £Eiire and
goodly Castle, in the which he often kept his Court,

OF THOMAS or BEADINe. 121

which was a place of his chiefe resideBce during his li&,
saying to the Clothiers, that seeing he found them wieh
faithfull subiects, he would be their neighbour,and dwell
among them.

Afber his Maiesties Eoyall feasting at Beading, he
proceeded in progresses till he had yisited the whole
West-countrieSybeingwondrouslydelightedftoaeeithose
people so diligent to apply their businesse : and com-
ming to Salisbury, the Bishop receiued his Maiesty
with great ioy, and with triumph attended on his G-raoe
to his Palace, where his Highnesse lodged.

There Sutton the Clothier presented his Highness^
with a broad cloth, of so fine a thread, and exceeding
good workmanship, and therewithall of so falre a colour,
as his Grace gaue commendation thereof, and as it is
said, he held it in such high estimation, that thereof he
made his Parliament robes, and the first Parliament that
was euer in England, was graced with the Kings person
in those robes, in requitall whereof his Highness after-
ward yeelded Sutton many princely &uours.

And it is to be remembred, that Simon of South-
hampton (seeing the King had ouerpast the place where
he dwelt) came with his wife and seruants to Salisbury,
and against the K. going forth of that City, hee
caused a most pleasant arbour to be made vponthe toppe
of the hill leading to Salisburie, beset all with red
and white roses, in such sort, that not any part of the tim-
ber could be seene, within the which sat a maiden at-
tired like a Queen, attended on by a faire traine of

122 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

maidensy who at the Kings approach presented him
with a garland of sweet flowres, yeelding him such
honour as the Ladies of Borne were wont to doe to their
Princes after their victories : which the King tooke in
gracious part, and for his farewell from that Country,
they bore him company ouer part of the Flaine, with the
sound of diuers sweet instruments of musicke. All
which when his Grace ynderstood was done at the cost
of a Clothier, he said he was the most honoured by those
men, aboue all the meane subiects in his Land : and so
his Highness past on to Exeter, hauing giuen great
rewards to these maidens.

Tomas Done and the residue of the Clothiers, against
his G-races comming thither, had ordained diuers sump-
tuous shews ; first, there was one that presented the
person of Augustus Cesar the Emperour, who com«
manded after the Eomane inuasion, that their City
should be called Augustus, after his owne name, which
before time was called Isca, and of later yeeres, Exeter.

There his Maiesty was royally feasted seuen dayes
together, at the onely cost of Clothiers, but the diuers
delightes and sundry pastimes which they made there
before the King, and his Nobles, is too long here to be
rehearsed, and therefore I will ouerpasse them to auoid
tediousnesse.

His Grace then coasting along the Country, at last
came to Glocester, an ancient City, which was builded
by Gloue, a Brittish King, who named it after his owne
name, Glocester. Here was his Maiesty entertained by

O; THOMAS 07 BEABIKGF. 123

Gray the Clothier, who profest himselfe to be of that
ancient family of Grayes, whose first originall issued out
of that ancient and Honorable Castle and Towne of
Bithin.

Here was the King most bountifully feasted, hauing
iji his company his brother Sobert (although his pri-
soner the same time.) And his Grace being desirous to.
see the Maidens card and spinne, they were of purpose
set to their worke : among whom was faire Margaret
with her white hand, whose excellent beauty hauing
pierc't the eyes of the amorous Duke, it made such an
impression in his heart, that afterward he could neuer
forget her : and so vehemently was his affection kindled,
that he could take no rest, till by writing he had be-
wrayed his mind : but of this we will speake more in
another place : and the King at his departure said, that
to gratifie them, hee would make his sonne Eobert
their Earle, who was the first Earle that euer was in
Glocester.

Now when his Grace was come &om thence, he went
to Worcester, where "William Fitz-allen made prepara-
tion in all honourable sort to receiue him, which man
being borne of great parentage, was not to leame how
to entertainehisMaiestie, being descended of thatfamous
Family, whose patrimony lay about the Towne of
Oswestrie, which Towne his predecessors had inclosed
with stately walls of stone.

Although aduerse fortune had so grieuously frowned
on some of them, that their children were faine to be-

124 THB P£BABAMT HISTOBII

conue Tradesmen, whose haads were to them in stead of
lands, notwithstanding God raised againe the fiune of
this man, both by his great wealth, and also in his pos-
terity, whose eldest son Henry, the Kings god-son, be-
came afterward the Maior of London^ who was the first
Maior that euer was in that City, who gouerned the
same 28 yeeres : and then his son Boger Eitz-allen was
the second Maior.

The princely pleasures that in Worcester were
shewn the King, were many and maruelous, and in no
place had his Maiesty receiued more delight then here :
for the which at his departure he did shew himselfe very
thankefull. Now when his Grace had thus taken view
of all his good townes Westward, and in that progresse
had visited these Clothiers, he returned to London, with
great ioy of his Commons.

How Hodgekins of Hallifax came to the Court, and
complained to the King, that his priuiledge was
nothing worth, because when they found any of-
fender, they could not get a hangman to execute
him : and how by a Fryer a gin was deuised to chop
off mens heads of it selfe. Chap. 8.

Aptjsb that Hodgkins had got the priuiledge for the
towne of Halifax, to hang yp such theeues as stole their
cloth in the night, presently without any further iudge-
ment, all the Clothiers of the towne were exceeding
glad, and perswaded themselues, that now their goods
woidd be safe all night, without watching them at all.

OP THOMAS or ssADiiro. 125

BO that whereas before^ the town maintained certaine
watchmen to keepe their doth by night, they were
hereupon dismissed as a thing needlesse to be done,
supposing with themselues, that seeing they should be
straight hanged thatwere found faulty in this point, that
no man would be so desperate to enterprise any such
act. And indeed the matter being noysed through the
whole Country, that they were straight to be hanged
that Yse such theeuery, it made many lewd Huers to re«
straine such theeuery.

iN^euertheles, there was at that same time lining, a
notable Theefe named WalHs, whom in the north they
caUed Mighty Wallis, in regard of his valour and man-
hood : This man being most subtile in such kind of
knauery, hauing heard of this late priuiledge, and there-
withall of the Townes security, said that once he would
venture his necke for a packe of Northeme cloth : and
therefore comming to one or two of his companions, he
asked if they would be partners in his adventure, and if
(quoth he) you wiQ herein hazard your bodies, you shall
be sharers in all our booties.

At length by many perswasions the men consented :
whereupon late in the night, they got them all into a
Parriours shop, and called vp the folkes of the house.
What the foule ill wald you haue (quoth they) at this
time of the night ? WaUis answered, saying, Qood-
fellowes, we would haue you to remoue the shooes of
our horses feete, and set them on againe, and for your
paines you shaU be well pleased. The Smith at length

126 THB PLEASAJfTT HISTOBIS

was persuaded, and when he had pluekt off all the
ehooes from their horses feete, they would needes haue
them all set on againe, quite contrary with the cakins
forward^ that should stand backward. How P fay, fay
man, qd. the Smith, are ye like fules ? what the deele
doe you meane to breake your crags P gud faith I tro
the men be wood. Not so> Smith, qd. they, do thou as
we bid thee, and thou shalt haue thy mony : for it is an
old prouerbe,

Be it better, or be it worse,

Please you the man that beares the purse.

Gudd faith and see I sail, qd. the Smith, and so did as
hee was willed. When Wallis had thus caused their
horses to be shod, to Hallifax they went, where they
without any let, laded their horses with cloth, and so
departed contrary way.

In the morning, so soone as the Clothiers came to
the field, they found that they were robd, whereupon
one ranne to another to tell these things. Now when
Hodgekins heard thereof, rising yp in haste, he wild his
neighbors to mark and to see, if they could not descry
either the foot-steppes of men or Horses. Which being
done, they perceiued that horses had been there, and
seeking to pursue them by their foot-steppes, they went
a cleane contrary way, by reason that the horses were
shodde backward : and when in vaine they had long
pursued them, they returned, being neuer the neere.
Now Wallis Ysed his feate so long, that at length be was

OF THOMAS OF BEADIKG. 127

taken, and two more with bim : whereupon according
to the priuilege of the Towne, they put Halters about
the theeues neckes presently to hang them yp.

When they were come to the place appointed^
Wallis and the rest being out of hope to escape death,
prepared themselues patiently to suffer the rigor of the
Law. And therewith the rest laying open the lewd*
nesse of his life, grieuously lamenting for his sinnes, at
length commending their soules to God, they yeelded
their bodies to the graue, with which sight the people
were greatly mooued with pity, because they had neuer
scene men come to hanging before : but when they
should haue beene tyed yp, Hodgekins willed one of his
neighbours to play the Hang-mans part, who would not
by any meanes doe it, although he was a yery poore
man, who for his paines should haue beene possest of all
their appareU. "When he would hot yeeld to the office,
one of those which had his cloth stolen, was commanded
to doe the deed ; but he in like manner would not,
saying : When I haue the skill to make a man, I will
hang a man, if it chance my workmanship doe not
like me.

And thus from one to another, the office of the
Hang-man was posted off. At last a Bogue came by,
whom they would haue compelled to haue done that
deed. Nay, my masters, qd. he, not so : but as you
haue got a priuiledge for the Towne, so you were best
to procure a Commission to make a hang-man, or else
you are like to be without one for me. Neighbor

128 THE PLEASAKT HISTOBtE

fiodgkins qaoth one, I pray jou doe this office your
selfe, yon haue had most losse, and therefore you should
be the most leady to hang them your selfe. No, not I
(quoth Hodgkins,) though my losse were ten times
greater then it is, notwithstanding look which* of these
Theeues will take vpon him to hang the other, shall
haue his life saued, otherwise they shall all to prison
till I can prouide a hangman.

When Wallis saw the matter brought to this passe,
he began stoutly to reply, saying. My masters of the
Towne of Halifax, though your priuHedge stretch to
hang men vp presently that are found stealing of your
goods, yet it glues you no warrant to imprison them
till you prouide them a hang-man, my selfe, with these
my fellowes, haue here yeelded our selues to satisfie the
Law, and if it be not performed, the f&vlt is yours, and
not ours, and therefore we humbly take our leaue : from
the gallowes the xviii of August. And with that he
leapt from the ladder, and hurl'd the halter at Hodgkins
face.

When the Clothiers saw this, they knew not what to
say, but taking them by the sleeues, entreated to haue
their owne againe. Not so, qd. Wallis, you get not the
value of a packe or a bawby : wee haue stolne your
cloth, then why doe. you not hang vs P here we haue
made our selues ready, and if you wiQ not hang ys,
chuse. A plague vpon you, quoth he, you haue hindred
me Qod knowes what, I made account to dine this day
in heauen, and you keepe me here on earth where there

OF THOMAS OP BfiABlKd. . 129

ifl not a quarter of that good cheare. The foule euill
take you all, I was f uUj prouided to giue the gallowes a
boxe (m the eare, and now Ood knowes when I shall be
in so good a minde againe : and so he with the rest of
his companions departed.

When Hodgekins saw, that notwithstanding their
theeuery, how they flowted at their lenity, he was much
mooued in minde; and as he stood in his dumps
chewing his cud, making his dinner with a dish of
melancholy, a gray Etyar reuerently saluted him in this
sort : All haile, good-man Hodgekins, happinesse and
health be euer with you, and to all suppressors of lewd
liuers, Gk)d send euerlasting ioyes.

I am sorry good-man Hodgekins, that the great pri*
uiledge which our King gaue to this towne, comes to no
greater purpose ; better farre had it beene that it had
neuer beene granted, then so lightly regarded ; the
towne hath suffered through their owne peeuishnesse>
an euerlasting reproch this day, onely because foolish
pitty hath hindred Justice.

Oonsideir, that compassion is not to be had vpon
theeues and robbers ; pity onely appertaineth to the
veirtuous sort, who are ouerwhelmed with the wanes of
misery and mischance. What great cause of boldnesse
bane you giuen to bad liuers, by letting these fellowes
thus to escape, and how shall you now keepe your
goods in safety, seeing you iulfiU not the Law which
should be your defence ? neuer thinke that theeues will
inake any conscience to carry away your goods, when

VOL. I. K

130 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

they find them selues in no danger of death, who haue
more cause to praise your pity, then commend your
wisedome : wherefore in time seeke to preuent the en-
suing euiU.

For my owne part, I haue that care of your good,
that I would worke all good meanes for your be-
nefit| and yet not so much in respect of your profit,
as for the desire I haue to yphold Justice, and seeing I
findyouandtherestso womanish, that you could not find
in your hearts to hang a Theefe, I haue deuised how to
make a gin, that shall cut off their heads without mans
helpe, and if the King will allow thereof.

When Hodgekins heard this, he was somewhat com-
forted in mind, and said to the Fryer, that if by his
cunning he would performe it, he would once againe
make sute to the King to haue his grant for the same.
The Fryer willed him to haue no doubt in him ; and
so when he had deuised it, he got a Carpenter to frame
it out of hand.

Hodgekins in the meane time posted it yp to the
Court, and told his Maiesty that the priuiledge of Hal-
lifax was not worth a pudding. Why so, said the Bang?
Because, quoth Hodgekins, we can get neuer a hangman
to trusse our theeues : but if it shall like your good
Grace, (quoth he) there is a feate Fry ar, that will make
vs a deuise, which shall without the hand of man cut
off the cragges of all such carles, if your Maiesty will
please to allow thereof.

The King vnderstanding the full effect of the matter,

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. 131

at length granted his petition : whereupon till this day,
it is obserued in Hallifax, that such as are taken
stealing of their cloth, haue their heads chopt off with
the same gin.

How the Bailiffes of London could get no man to bee a
Catchpole, and how certaine Flemings tooke that
office vpon them, whereof many of them were fledde
into this Bealme, by reason of certaine waters that
had drowned a great part of their Country. Chap. 9.

The City of London being at that time gouerned by
Bailiffes, it came to passe, that in a certaine fray two of
their Catch-poles were killed, for at that time they had
not the name of Sergeants : and you shall vnderstand,
that their office was then so much hated and detested of
Englishmen, that none of them would take it vpon him :
so that the Bailiffes were glad to get any man whatso-
euer, and to giue him certain wages to performe that
office.

It came to passe, as I said before, that two of their
Officers by arresting of a man, were at one instant slaine,
by meanes whereof the Bailiffes were enforced to seeke
others to put in their roomes ; but by no meanes could
they get any, wherefore according to their wonted man-
ner, they made proclamation, that if there were any man
that would present himselfe before them, he should not
onely be settled in that office during their Hues, but also
should haue such maintenance and allowance, as for such
men was by the City prouided : and notwithstanding

'^S

132 THE PLBASAKT HISTOBID

that it was an office moat necessary in the Common-
wealth, yet did the poorest wretch despise it, that lined
in any estimation among his neighbours.

At last, a couple of Flemings, which were fledintothis
Land, by reason that their Country was drowned with
the sea, hearing the Proclamation, offered themselues
vnto the Bayliffes, to serue in this place, who were pre-
sently receiued and accepted and according to order had
garments giuen them, which were of 2. colors, blue and
red their coates, breeches and stockings, whereby they
were knowne and discerned from other men.

Within halfe a yeere after, it came to passe, that
Thomas Done of Exeter came vp to London, who hauing
by his iollity and goodfellowship, brought himselfe
greatly behind hand, was in danger to diners men of the
Cite, among the rest, one of his Creditors feed an Officer
to arrest him. The Dutch-man that had not beene long
experienced in such matters, and hearing how many of
his feUowes had beene killed for attempting to arrest
men, stood quiuering and quaking in a comer of the
street to watch for Thomas Done, and hauing long
waited, at length he espied him: whereupon he prepared
his mace ready, and with a pale countenance proceeded
to his Office ; at what time comming behind the man,
suddenly with his mace, he knockt him on the pate, say-
ing, I arrest you, giuing him such a blow, that he fell
him to the ground.

The Catchpole thinking he had killed the man, he
left his mace behind him and ranne away: the Creditor

OV THOMAS OF BEADING. 133

ke ran after him, callijig and crying that he should tnme
againe : Bat the Meming would not by any meanes tume
backe, but got him quite out of the City, and tooke
Sanctuary at Westminster.

Done being come to himselfe, arose and went to his
Inne, no man hindring his passage, being not a little
glad he so escaped tiie danger. Yet neuerthelesse, at his
next comming to London, another Catchpole met with
him, and arrested him in the Kings name.

Doue being dismayed at this misbhieuous mischance,
knew not what to doe : at last hee requested the Catch-
pole that hee would not violently cast him in prison, but
stay tni such time as he could send for a friend to be his
surety ; and although kindnesse in a Catchpole be rare,
yet was he won with faire words to doe him this fauour :
whereupon Doue desired one to goe to his Oast larrat,
who immediately came with him, and offered himselfe
to be Doues surety.

The Officer, who neuer saw this man before, was
much amazed at his sight : for larrat was a great and
mighty man of body, of countenance grim, and exceed-
ing high of stature, so that the Catchpole was wonder-
Ailly afraid, asking if he could find neuer a surety but
the deuill, most fearfully intreating him to coniure him
away, and he would doe Doue any fauour. What, will
you not take my word, qd. larrat? sir, qd. the Catchpole,
if it were for any matter in hell, I would take your word
as soone as any diuels in that place, but seeing it is for
a matter 6n earfch, I would gladly haue a surety.?

134 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIS

Why, thou whorson cricket, (quoth larrat,) thou
maggat-apie, thou spinner, thou paultry spider, dost
thou take me for a deuill? Sirra, take my word, I
charge thee, for this man, or else goodman butter-fly.
He make thee repent it. The Officer, while he was in
the house, said, he was ootent, but as soon as be came
into the street, he cryed, saying : Helpe, helpe, good
neighbors, or else the deuill wiU carry away myprisoner :
notwithstanding, there was not one man would stirre to
be the Catchpoles aide. Which when he saw, be tooke
fast hold on Thomas Done, and would not by any
meanes let him goe.

larrat seeing this, made no more adoe, but comming
to the Officer, gaue him such a flllop on the forehead with
his finger, that he fell the poore Meming to the ground:
and while he layin the street stretching his heeles,Iarrat
tooke Done vnder his arme and carried him home, where
he thought himselfe as safe, as King Gharlemaine in
Mount-albion.

The next morning larrat conueyed Done out of
Towne, who afterward kept him in the Country, and
came no more in the Catchpoles clawes.

How Duke Eobert came a wooing to Margaret with the
white hand, and how he appointed to come and steale
her away fipom her Masters. Chap. 10.

The beautiful Margaret, who had now dwelt with her
Dame the space of foure yeeres, was highly regarded
and secretly beloued of many gallant and worthy Gen-

OF THOMAS OF BEADING. 135

tlemen of the Country, but of two most especially, Duke
Bobert, and Sir William Perris. It chanced on a time,
that faire Margaret with many others of her Masters
folkes, went a hay-making, attired in a red stammeU
peticoate, and a broad strawne hat vpon her head, she
had also a hay-forke, and in her lappe shee did carry her
breake-fast. As she went along, Duke Eobert, with one
or two of his keepers, met with her, whose amiable sight
did now anew re-inkindle the secret fire of loue« which
long lay smothering in his heart. Wherefore meeting
her so happily, he saluted her thus friendly.

Eaire maid, good morow, are you walking so dili-
gently to your labour ? Needes must the weather be
faire, when the Sun shines so cleare, and the hay whole-
some that is dryedwith such splendent ray es. Eenowned
and most notable Duke (qd. she) poore harue^ folkes
pray for faire weather, and it is the laborers comfort to
see his worke prosper, and the more happy may we count
the day, that is blessed with your princely presence :
but more happy, said the Duke, are they which are con-
uersant in thy company. But let me intreat thee to
tume backe to thy Masters with me, and commit thy
forke to some that are fitter for such toyle : trust me,
me thiakes thy dame is too much iU aduised, in setting
thee to such homely busines. I muse thou canst indure
this vile beseeming seruitude, whose delicate liras were
neuer framed to proue such painefuU experiments.

Albeit, quoth she, it becommeth not me to controule
your iudiciall thoughts, yet were you not the Duke, I

136 THE PLEASAKT HISTOBIB

would say, your opinion decerned you : though your
fiiire eyes seeme cleare, yet I deemed them vnperfect^ if
they cast before your mind any shadow or sparke of
beauty in me : But I rather thinke, because it hath beene
an old saying, that women are pioud to heare themselues
praised, thajt you either speake this, to driue away the
time, or to wring me from my too apparent imperfec-
tions. But I humbly intreate pardon, too longe haue I
fore-slpwed mybusinesse,and shewne myselfe ouer-bold
in your presence ; and therewith, with a courtly grace,
bending her knees to the courteous Duke, shee went
forward to the field, and the Duke to the Towne of
Ghlocester.

When he came thither, he made his Keeper great
cheare, intreating them they would giue him respit to be
awhile with old Gray ; for we twaine must haue a game
or two, quoth he : and for my safe retume, I gage to
you my princely word, that as I am a true Knight and a
G-entleman, I wiU retume safe to your charge againe.

The Keepers being content, the Duke departed, and
with old Gray goes to the field, to peruse the Worke-
folkes, where while Gray found himselfe busie in many
matters, he tooke opportunity to talke with Margaret ;
shee who by his letters before was priuie to his purpose ;
guest beforehand the cause of his comming : to whom
he spake to this effect:

Faire Maid, I did long since manifest my loue to
thee by my letter ; tell me therefore, were it not better
to be a Duches then drudge ! a Lady of high reputation,

OV THOMAS or BEABIKG. 137

then a seruant of simple degree ? withme thou migbtest
liuein pleasure^ where here thou drawest thy dajea forth
in paine ; by my loue thou sbouldflt be made a Lady of
great treasures ; where now thou art poore and
beggerly : all manner of delights should then attend
on thee, and whatsoeuer thy heart desireth, thou
shouldst bane: wherefore seeing it lyes in thy owne
choice, make thy selfe happy, by consenting to my
Suite.

Sir, (quoth she) I confesseyour loue deserues a Ladies
fauour, your affection a fcdthful friend, such a one as
could make but one heart and mind of two hearts and
bodyes ; but farre vnfit it is that the Turtle should
match with the Eagle, though her loue be neuer so pure,
her wings are vnfit to mount so high. While Thales
gazed on the starres, he stumbled in a pit. And they
that clime vnaduisedly, catch a fall suddenly : what
auaileth high dignity in time of aduersity P it neither
helpeth the sorrow of the heart, nor remoues the bodies
misery : as for wealth and treasure, what are they, but
fortunes baits to bnng men in danger ? good for nothing
but to make people foi^et tbemselues : and whereas you
alleadge pouerty to be a hinderer of the hearts comfort,
I £nd it my selfe contrary, knowing more surety to rest
ynder a simple habit, then a royall Bobe : and yerily
there is none in the world poore, but they that think
themselues poore : for such as are indued with content,
are rich, hauing nothing else, but he that is possessed
ynth riches, without content, ismost wretched and mise-

138 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

rable. "Wherefore most Noble Diike, albeit I account
my life vnworthy of your least fauour, yet I would
desire you to match your loue to your like, and let me
rest to my rake, and vse my forke for my lining.

Consider, faire Margaret, (quoth he) that it lyes not
in mans power to place his loue where he list, being the
worke of an high deity. A bird was neuer seene in
Pontus, nor true loue in a fleeting mind : neuer shall
remoue the affection of my heart which in nature re-
sembleth the stone Abiston, whose fire can neuer be
cooled: wherefore sweet Maiden giue not obstinate
deniall, where gentle acceptance ought to be receiued.

Faire sir, (quoth she) consider what high displeasure
may rise by a rash match, what danger a Kings frownes
may breed, my worthlesse matching with your Eoyalty ,
may perhaps regaine your liberty, and hazard my life ;
then call to mind how little you should enjoy your loue
or I my wedded Lord.

The Duke at these words made this reply, that if she
consented, she should not dread any danger. The
thunder (quoth he) is driuen away by ringing of belles,
the Lions wrath qualified by a yeelding body: howmuch
more a Brothers anger with a Brothers intreaty ? By me
he hath receiued many fauors, and neuer yet did he
requite any one of them : and who is ignorant that the
Princely Crown which adometh his head, is my right ?
all which I am content he shall still enioy, so he requite
my kindnesse. But if he should not, then would The
like those men (that eating of the tree Lutes) forget

1

07 THOMAS OF BEADIKCb 139^

the Country where they were borne, and neuer more
should this clime couer my head, but with thee would I
line in a strange Land, being better content with an
egge in thy company, then with all the delicates in
England.

The Maiden hearing this, who with many other
words was long wooed, at last consented; whereyeelding
to him her heart with her hand, hee departed, appointing
to certifie her from Gardiffe Castle, what determination
he would foUow : so taking his leaue of Ghny he went to
his brothers, and with them posted to Cardiffe.

Now it is to be remembred, that sir William Eerrers
within a day or two after came vnto Grayes house, as it
was his ordinary custome, but not so much ywis for
Grayes company, as for the minde he had to Margaret
his Maide, who although he were a married man, and
had a faire Lady to his wife, yet he laid hard siege to the
fort of this Maidens chastity, hauing with many faire
words sought to allure her, and by the offer of sundry
rich gifts to tempt her. But whe she saw, that by a
hundred denials she could not be rid of him, she now
chanced on a sudden to giue him such an answer, as
droue him from a deceit into such a conceit, as neuer
after that time he troubled her.

Sir William Ferrers being very importunate to haue
her grant his desire, and when after sundry assaults she
gaue him still the repulse, hee would needes know the
reason why shee would not loue him, quoth he, If thou
didst but consider who he is that seeketh thy fauour,

140 THE FLEASAKT HUTOBIS

what pleMore he maj doe thee bj his purse, and what
eredit by his oountenance, thoa wouldst neuer stand on
such nice points. If I be thj friend, who dareth be thj
foe P and what is he that will once call thj name in
question for any thing ? therefore sweet girle, be better
aduised, and refuse not mj offer being so large.

Trulj sir William (quoth she) though there be many
reasons to make me deny your suite, yet is there one
aboue the rest that causes me I cannot loue you. Now,
I pray thee, my wench let me know that, quoth he, and
I will amend it whatsoeuer it be. Pardon me sir, said
Margaret, if I should speake my mind, it would possibly
offend you, and doe me no pleasure because it is a defect
in nature, which no phisicke can cure. Sir William
hearing on her so, being abashed at her speech, said,
Faira Margaret, let me (if I may obtaine no more at thy
bands) yet intreat thee to know what this defect should
be ; I am not wry-neckt, crook-legd, stub-footed, lame-
handed, nor bleare-eyed : what can make this mislike P
I neuer knew any body that tooke exceptions at my
person before.

And the more sorry am I, quoth she, that I was so
malapert to speake it, but pardon me my presumption,
good sir William, I would I had beene like the Storke
tonguelesse, then should I neuer haue caused your dis-
quiet. Nay sweet Margaret, quoth he, tell me deare
loue, I commend thy singlenesse of heart, good Margaret
speake. &ood sir William let it rest, quoth shee, I
know you will not beleeue it when I haue i^uealed it,

OV TSOMAS OF BEADIKO. 141

neither is it a thing that jovl can helpe : and yet such is
mj fooliehnesse, had it not beene for that, I thinkeyerilj
I had granted your suite ere now. But seeing you vrge
me so much to know what it is, I will tell you : it is sir,
your ill-fauoured great nose, that hangs sagging so
lothsomely to your lips, that I cannot finde in my heart
so much as to kisse you.

What, my nose, quoth he ? is my nose so great and
I neuer knew it ? certainely I thought my nose to be as
comely as any mans : but this it is we are all apt to
think well of our selues, and a great deale better then
we ought : but let me see P my nose ! by the masse tis
true, I doe now feele it my selfe : Good Lord, how was I
blinded before P Hereupon it is certaine,that the Knight
was driuen into such a conceit, as none could perswade
him but his nose was so great indeed ; his Lady, or any
other that spake to the contrarie, he would say they were
flatterers, and that they lied, insomuch that he would be
ready to strike some of them that commended and spake
well of his nose. If they were men of worship, or any
other that contraried him in his opinion, he would
sweare they flowted him, and be ready to challenge them
the field. He became so ashamed of himselfe, that alter
that day he would neuer goe abroad, whereby Margaret
was well rid of his company.

On a time, a wise and graue Gentleman seeing him
grounded in his conceit so strongly, gaue his Lady
counsell, not to contrary him therein, but rather say
that she would seeke out some cunningPhysicianto cure

142 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

him : for, said he, as sir William hath taken this conceit;
of himselfe, so is he like neuer to heare other opinion,
till his owne conceit doth remoue it, the which must be
wisely wrought to bring it to passe.

Whereupon the Lady hauing conferred with a Physi-
cian that beare a great name in the countrey, hee vnder-
tooke to remoue this fond conceit by his skill. The day
being appointed when the Phisician should come, and
the Knight beeing told thereof, for very ioy he would
goe forth to meete him, when a woman of the Towne saw
theKnight, hauing heard what rumor went because of his
nose, shee looked very sted£s»tly ypon him: the Knight
casting his eye ypon her, seeing her to gaze so wistly in
his face, with an angry countenance said thus to her.
Why, how now good huswife, cannot you get you about
your business ? The woman being a shrewish queane,
answered him cuttedly, No mary can I not, qd. she. No,
you drab, What is the cause, said the Knight P Because,
quoth she, your nose stands in my way : wherewith the
Knight being very angry, and abashed, went backe
againe to his house.

The Physician being come, he had filled a certaine
bladder with sheepes blood, and conueyed it into his
sleeue, where at the issue of the bladder he had put in
a piece of a swans quill, through the which the blood
should runne out of the bladder so close by his hand,
that hee holding the Knight by the nose, it might not be
perceiuedy but that it issued thence. All things being
prepared, he told the Knight, that by a foule corrupt

OF THOMAS OF BEADIKG. X43

blood wherewith the veines of his nose were ouer-
charged, his impediment did grow, therefore, quoth he,
to haue redresse for this disease, you must haue a veine
opened in your nose, whence this foule corruption must ^
be taken : whereupon it will follow, that your nose will
&11 againe to his naturall proportion, and neuer shall
you be troubled with this griefe any more, and there-
upon will I gage my life.

I pray you master Doctor, said the Knight, is my
nose so big as you make it ? "With reuerence I piay
speake it, said the Physician, to tell the truth, and auoid
flattery, I neuer saw a more misshapen nose so foule to
sight. Lo you now Madam, quoth the Knight, this is
you that said my nose was as well, as hansome, and as
comely a nose as any mans.

Alas sir, qd. she, I spake it (God wot) because you
should not grieue at it, nor take my words in ill part,
neither did it indeed become me to mislike of your nose.

All this we will quickly remedy, said the Fhysiciau,
haue no doubt : and with that, he very orderly prickt
him in the nose, but not in a veine whereby he might
bleed : and presently hauing a tricke finely to vnstop the
quill, the blood ranne into a bason in great abundance :
and when the bladder was empty, and the bason almost
full, the Physician seemed to close the veine, and asked
him how he felt his nose, shewing the great quantite of
filthy blood which from thence he had taken.

The Knight beholding it with great wonder, said, he
thought that no man in the world had beene troubled

1

144 THS FLEASAITT HISTOBIX

with such abundance of corrupt blood in his whole body,
as lay in his mis-shapen nose, and therewithal! he
began to touch and handle his nose, saying, that he fell
• it mightily ass waged. Immediately a glaase was Inronght
wherein he might behold himselfe. Tea mary, qd. he
now I praise God, I see my nose is come into some
reasonable proportion, and I feele my selfe very well
eased of the burthen thereof; but if it continue thus,
thats all. I will warrant your worship, said the Physi-
ciap, for euer being troubled with the like againe.
Whereupon the Knight receiued great ioy, and the
Doctor a high reward.

4

How Thomas of Eeading was murdered at his Oasts
house of Colebrooke, who also had murdred many
before him, and how their wickednesse was at length
reuealed. Chap. 11.

Thomas of Beading hauing many occasions to come to
London, as well about his own affiiires, as also the
Kings businesse, being in a great office vnder his Ma*
iestie, it chanced on a time, that his Oast and Oastesse
of Colebrooke, who through oouetousnesse had mur*
dered many of the guests, and hauing eyeiy time he
came thither great store of his money to lay yp, ap-
pointed him to be the next fiit pig that should be
killed: For it is to be ynderstood, that when they
plotted the murder of any man, this was alwaies their
terme, the man to his wife, and the woman to her bus*

OP THOMAS OT ItiEADTSa. 145

band : wife, there is now a fat pig to be had if you want
one. Whereupon she would answer thus, I praj you
put him in the hogstie till to-morrow. This was, when
any man came thither alone without others in his com-
pany, and they saw he had great store of money.

This man should be then laid in the chamber right
ouer the kitchen, which was a £aire chamber, and the
better set out then any other in the house : the best
bedstead therein, though it were little and low, yet was
it most cunningly earned, and faire to the eye, the feet
whereof were fast naild to the chamber floore, in such
sort, that it could not in any wise fall, the bed that lay
therein was fast sowed to the sides of the bedstead :
Moreouer, that part of the chamber whereupon this bed
and bedstead stood, was made in such sort, that by the
pulling out of two yron pinnes below in the kitchen, it
was to be let downe and taken vp by a draw-bridge, or
in manner of a trap-doore : moreouer in the kitchin,
directly vnder the place where this should fall, was a
mighty great caldron, wherein they vsed to seethe their
liquor when they went to brewing. Now, the men ap-
pointed for the slaughter, were laid into this bed, and in
the dead time of the night, when they were sound
asleepe, by plucking out the foresaid yron pinnes,
downe will the man fall out of his bed into the boyUng
caldron, and all the deaths that were vpon him : where
being suddenly scalded and drowned, he was neuer able
to ciy or speake one word.

Then had they a little ladder euer standing ready in

TOL. I. L

146 THIS FLEABAKT HI8TOBIE

the kitchin, by the which they presently mounted into
the said chamber, and there closely take away the mans
apparell, as also his money, in his male or cap-case :
and then lifting yp the said falling floore which hung
by hinges, they made it fast as before.

The dead body would they take presently out of the
caldron and throw it downe the riuer, which ran neere
ynto their house, whereby they escaped all danger.

I^ow if in the morning any of the rest of the guests
that had talkt with the miu*dered man ore eue, chanst
to aske for him, as hauing occasion to ride the same
way that he should haue done, the good-man would
answere, that he tooke horse a good while before day,
and that he himselfe did set him forward : the horse the
good-man would also take out of the stable, and conuay
him by a hay-bame of his, that stood from his house a
mile or two, whereof himselfe did alwaies keepe the
keies full charily, and when any hay was to be brought
from thence, with his owne hands he would deliuer it ;
then before the horse should goe from thence, he would
dismarke him : as if he ware a long taile, he would
make him curtail ; or else crop his eares, or cut his
mane, or put out one of his eies ; and by this meanes
hee kept himselfe vnknowne.

Now Thomas of Beading, as I said before, being
markt and kept for a fat pig, he was laid in the same
chamber of death, but by reason Gray of Glocester
chanced also to come that night, he escaped scalding.

The next time he came, he was laid there againe.

07 THOMAS OP BEADING. 147

but before be fell asleepe, or was warme in bis bed, one
came riding thorow tbe Towne and cryed piteousljjtbat
London was all on a fire, and tbat it bad burned downe
Tbomas Beckets bouse in West-cbeape, and a great
number, more in tbe same street, and jet (quotb be) tbe
fire is not quencbt.

Wbicb tidings wben Tbomas of Beading beard, be
was very sorrowfuU, for of tbe same Becket tbat day be
bad receiued a great peece of money, and bad left in bis
bouse many of bis writings, and some tbat appertained
to tbe King also : tberefore tbere was no nay but be
would ride backe againe to London presently, to see
bow tbe matter stood ; tbereupon making bimselfe
ready, departed. Tbis- crosse fortune caused bis Oast
to frowne, neuertbeless tbe next time (qd. be) will pay
for all.

Notwitbstanding Grod so wrougbt, tbat tbey were
preuented tbe likewise, by reason of a great fray tbat
bapned in tbe bouse betwixt a couple tbat fell out at
dice, insomucb as tbe murderers tbemselues were in-
forced to call bim vp being a man in great autbority,
tbat be migbt set tbe bouse in quietnesse, out of tbe
wbicb by meanes of tbis quarrell, tbey doubted to lose
many tbings.

Anotber time wben bee sbould baue beene laid in
tbe same place, be fell so sicke, tbat be requested to
baue some body to watcb witb bim, wbereby also tbey
could not bring tbeir vile purpose to passe. But bard it
is to escape tbe ill fortunes wbereunto a man is allotted :

148 THE PLBABAJE7T HISTORIC

for albeit that the next time that he came to London,
his horse stumbled and broke one of his legs as he
should ride homeward* yet hired he another to hasten
his owne death ; for there is no remedy but he shoul 1
goe to Colebrooke that night : but by the way he was
heauy asleepe, that he could scant keepe himselfe in the
saddle ; and when he came neere vnto the Towne, his
nose burst out suddenly a bleeding.

Well, to his Inne he came, and so heauy was his
heart that he could eate no meat : his Oast and Oastesse
hearing he was so melancholy, came yp to cheare him,
saying, Jesus Master Cole, what ayles you to night ?
neuer did we see you thus sad before : will it please you
to haue a quart of burnt sacke ? With a good will
(quoth he) and would to God Tom Done were here, he
would surely make me merry, and we should lacke no
musicke : but I am sorry for the man with all my heart,
that he is come so farre behind hand : but alas, so much
can euery man say, but what good doth it him P No, no,
it is not words can helpe a man in this case, the man
had need of other reliefe then so. Let me see : I haue
but one child in the world, and that is my daughter, and
halfe that I haue is hers, the other haJfe my wifes.
What then ? shall I be good to no body but them ? In
conscience, my wealth is too much for a couple to pos-
sesse, and what is our EeHgion without charity ? And
to whom is charity more to be shewne, then to decaid
house-holders ?

G-ood my Oast lend me a pen and inke, and some

OF THOMAS OF SEADnTG. 149

pa|)er, for I will write a letter Vnto the poore man
stimght 'j and sometluiig I will giue him : That almes
which a man bestoweB with his owne han^s, he shall be
sure to haoe deliuered, and GK)d knowes how long I
shall line.

With that, his Oastesse dissemblingly answered,
saying, Doubt not. Master Cole, jou are like enough
by the course of nature to line many yeeres. God
knowes (quoth he) I neuer found my heart so heauy
before. By this time pen« inke, and paper was brought,
setting himselfe in writing as followeth.

In the name of God, Amen. I bequeath my soule to
God, and my body to the ground, my goods equally
betweene my wife Elenor, and Isabel my daughter.
Item I giue to Thomas Done of Exeter one hundred
pounds, nay that is too little, I giue to Thomas
Done two hundred pounds in money, to be paid
vnto him presently Tpon his demand thereof by my
said wife and daughter.

Ha, how say you Oast (qd. he) is not this well ? I pray
you reade it. His Oast looking thereon, said, why
Master Cole, what haue you written here ? you said you
would write a letter, but me thinks you haue made a
Will, what neede haue you to doe thus P thanks be to
God, you may line many faire yeeres. Tis true (quoth
Cole) if it please God, and I trust this writing cannot
shorten my dales, but let me see, haue I made a Will P
Now, I promise you, I did verily purpose to write a

150 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIS

letter : notwithstanding, I have written that that God
put into my mind : but looke once againe my Oast^ is it
not written there, that Doue shall haue two hundred
pounds, to be paid when he comes to demand it p yes
indeed said his Oaste. Well then, all is well« said Cole,
and it shall goe as it is for me. I will not bestow the
new writing thereof any more.

Then folding it vp, he sealed it, desiring that his
Oast would send it to Exeter: he promised that he
would, notwithstanding Cole was not satisfied : but
after some pause, he woulds needs hire one to carry it.
And so sitting downe sadly in his chaire againe, vpon a
sudden he burst forth a weeping ; they demanding the
cause thereof, he spake as followeth :

No cause of these feares I know : but it comes now
into my minde (said Cole) when I set toward this my
last ioumey to London, how my daughter tooke on,
what a coyle she kept to haue me stay, and I could not
be rid of the little baggage a long time, she did so hang
about me, when her mother by violence tooke her away,
she cryed out most mainly, O my father, my father, I
shall neuer see him againe.

Alas, pretty soule, said his Oastesse, this was but
meere kindnesse in the girle, and it seemeth she is very
fond of you. But alas, why should you grieue at this ?
you must consider that it was bat childishnesse. I, it
is indeed, said Cole, and with that he began to nod.
Then they asked him if he would goe to bed . No, said
he, although I am heauy, I haue no mind to goe to bed

or THOMAS or sEADiira. 151

at all. With that certaine musicianB of the townis came
to the chamber, and knowing Master Cole was there»
drue out their instruments, and very solemnly began to
play.

This musicke comes very well (said Cole) and when
he had listned a while thereunto, he said, Me thinks
these instrumets sound like the ring of St. Mary Queries
bells, but the Base drowns all the rest : and in my eare
it goes like a bell that rings a forenoones kneU, for
G-ods sake let them leaue off, and beare them this simple
reward. The Musicians being gone, his Oast asked if
now it would please him to goe to bed ; for (quoth he)
it is welneere eleuen of the clocke.

With that Cole beholding his Oast and Oastesse
earnestly, began to start backe, saying, what aile you
to looke so like pale death ? good Lord, what haue you
done, that your hands are thus bloody P What my hands,
said his Oast ? Why, you may see they are neither
bloody nor foule : either your eyes doe grCatly dazeU,
or else fancies of a troubled minde 3oe delude you.

Alas, my Oast, you may see, said hee, how weake my
wits are, I neuer had my head so idle before. Come,
let me drinke once more, and then I will to bed, and
trouble you no longer. With that hee made himselfe
vnready, and his Oastesse was very diligent to warme a
kerchiffe, and put it about his head. Gk)od Lord, said
he, I am not sicke, I praise G-od, but such an alteration
I finde in my selfe as I neuer did before.

With that the scritch-owle cried pitiously, and anon

152 THS PLBASiJTT HISTOSIX

after the night-raaen sate croaking hard bj his window*
lesu haue mercj vpon me, qnoth hee, what; an ill-
fauouied cry doe yonder carrion birds make^ and there-
withall he laid him downe in his bed, from whence he
neuer rose againe.

His Oast and Oastesae, that all this while noted his
troubled mind, began to commune betwixt themselues
thereof. And the man said, he knew not what were
best to be done. By my consent (quoth he) the matter
should passe, for I thinke it is not best to meddle on
him* What man (quoth she) faint you now P haue you
done BO many and do you shrinke at this? Then shew-
ing him a great deale of gold which Cole had left with
her, she said. Would it not grieue a bodies heart to lose
this ? hang the old churle, what should he doe lining
any longer? he hath too much, and we haue too little :
tut husband, let the thing be done, and th^i this is our
owne.

Her wicked counsell was followed, and when they
had listned at his chamber doore, they heard the man
soimd asleepe: All is safe, quoth they, and downe into
the kitchin they goe, their seruants being all in bed, and
pulling out the yron pins, downe fell the bed, and the
man dropt out into the boyling caldron. He being dead,
they betwixt them cast his body rato the riuer, his
clothes they made away, and made all things as it
should be: but when hee came to the stable to conuey
thence Coles horse, the stable doore being open, the
horse had got loose^ and with apart ofthe halter about

01* TH0MX8 OT BEADIKa. 153

hiB necke, and straw trussed ynder his belly, as the
Ostlers had dressed him ore eae, he was gone out at the
hack-side, which led into a great field ioyning to the
house, and so leaping diuers hedges, being a lustie
stout horse, had got into a ground where a mare was
grasingy with whom he kept such a coile, that they got
into the high-way, where one of the Towne meeting
them, knew the mare, and brought her and the horse
to the man that owd her.

In the meane space, the Musicians had beene at the
Inne, and in requitall of their euenings gift, they in-
tended to giue Cole some musicke in the morning.
The good^man told them he tooke horse before day :
likewise there was a guest in the house that would
haue bore him company to Beading, ynto whom the
Oast also answered, that he himselfe set him ypon
horsebacke, and that he went long agoe. Anon came
the man that owed the mare, inquiring vp and downe,
to know and if none of them missed a horse, who said
no. At the last hee came to the signe of the Crane
where Cole lay : and calling the Oastlers, he demanded
of them if they lackt none, they said no : "Why then said
the man, I perceiue my mare is good for something, for
if I send her to field single, she wHl come home double :
thus it passed on all that day and the night following.
But the next day after. Coles wife musing that her hus-
band came not home, sent one of her men on horse-
backe, to see if he could meete him : and if (quoth she)
you meet him not betwixt this and Colebrooke, aske
for him at the Crane^ but if you find him not there, then

154 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIB

ride to London ; for I doubt he is either sicke or else
some mischance hath fallen vnto him.

The fellow did so, and asking for him at Colebrooke,
they answered, hee went homeward from thence such a
daj. The seruant musing what should be become of
his Master, and making much inquiry in the Towne for
him : at length one told him of a horse that was found
on the high- way, and no man knew whence he came.
He going to see the horse, knew him presently, and to
the Crane he goes with him. The Oast of the house
perceiuing this, was blanke, and that night fled secretly
away. The fellow going vnto the Justice desired his
helpe : presently after word was brought that larman
of the Crane was gone, then all the men said, he had
sure made Cole away : and the Musicians told what
larman said to them, when they would haue giuen Cole
musicke. Then the woman being apprehended and ex-
amined, confessed the truth. larman soone afber was
taken in Windsor Forest, he and his wife were both
hangd, after they had laid open al these things before
expressed. Also he confessed, that he being a Car-
penter made that false falling floore, and how his wife
deuised it. And how they had murdered by that
means Ix. persons. And yet notwithstanding all the
money which they had gotten thereby, they pros-
pered not, but at their death were found very farre in
debt.

When the King heard of this murder, he was for the
space of vii dayes so sorrowfull and heauie, as he would
not heare any suite, giuing also commandement, that

OF THOMAS OF B£iJ)ING. 155

the house should quite be consumed with fire, wherein
Cole was murdered, and that no man should euer build
ypon that cursed ground.

Coles substance at his death was exceeding great,
hee had daily in his house an hundred men seruants and
xl. maides ; hee maintained beside aboue two or three
hundred people, spinners and carders, and a great many
other house-holders. His wife neuer after married, and
at her death shee bestowed a mightie summe of money
toward the maintaining of the new builded Monastery.
Her daughter was most richly married to a G-entleman
of great worship, by whom she had many children.
And some say, that the riuer whereinto Cole was cast,
did euer since carrie the name of Cole being called
The riuer of Cole, and the Towne of Colebrooke.

How diuers of the Clothiers wiues went to the Church-
ing of Buttons wife of Salisbury, and of their merri-
ment. Chap. 12.

STTTOifTs wife of Salisbury which had lately bin deliuered
of a Sonne, against her going to Church, prepared great
cheare : at what time Simons wife of Southampton came
thither, and so did diuers others of the Clothiers wiues,
onely to make merry at this Churching feast : and
whilest these Dames sate at the Table, Crab, Weasell,
and Wren, waited on the boord, and as the old Prouerbe
speaketh, Many women many words, so fell it out at
that time : for there was such prattling that it passed :
some talkt of their husbands frowardnes, some shewed

156 THE PLEABAKT HISTOBIE

their maids slnttislmes, otiienome deciphered the eost-
lines of jtheir garments^ 8C«ne told many tales of their
neighbours : and to be briefe, there was none of them
but would haue talke for a whole day.

But when Grab, Weasell, and Wren saw this, they
concluded betwixt theinselues, that as oft as any of the
women had a good bit of meate on their trenchers, they
offering a cleane one, should catch that commodity, and
so they did : but the women being busie in talke,ma]^ed
it not, till at the last one found leisure to misse her
meat : whereupon she said, that their boldness exceeded
their diligence. Not so, forsooth, said Weasell, there
is an hundred bolder then we. Name me one, said the
woman, if you can. A flea is bender, quoth Orabbe.
How will you prone that, said the woman ? Because,
quoth he, they will creepe vnder your coates, where we
dare not come, and now and then bite you by the
buttocks as if they were brawne. But what becomes of
them, qd. the woman ? their sweet meat hath sowre
sauce, and their lustiues doth often cost them their liues»
therefore take heed. A good warning of a faire woman,
said Wren, but I had not thought so fine a wit in a fat
belly.

The women seeing their men so merry, said it was a
signe there was good ale in the house. Thats as fit for
a Churching quoth Weasell, as a cudgell for a curst
queane. Thus with pleasant communication and merry
quipslthey droue out the time, till the fruit and spice-
cakes were set on the boord : At what time one of them

OF THOMAS OF BEADTira. 157

began to aske the other, if thej heard not of the cruell
murder of Thomas of Eeading ? What, said the rest, is
old Cole murdered ? when, I pray you was the dee i
done ? The other answered, on Friday last. good Lord,
said the women, how was it done,, can you tell P
As report goes, said the other, he was rested aliue.

pitifuU ! was hee roasted ? Indeed I heard one say, a
man was murdred at London, and that he was sodden
at an Inholders house, and serued it to the guests in
stead of porke.

No neighbour, it was not at London, said another ;

1 heare say twas coming from London, at a place called
Colebrook^and it is reported for truth, that the Inholder
made pies of him, and penny pasties, yea, and made his
owne seruant eate apiece of him. But I pray you good
neighbour, can you tell how it was knowne : some say,
that a horse reuealed it.

Now by the masse (quoth Grayes wife) it was told

one of my neighbours, that a certaine horse did speake,

and told great things. That sounds like a lie, said one

of them. Why, said another, may not a horse speake,

as well as Balaam asse P It may be, but it is vnlikely,

said the third. But where was the horse when he

spake P As some say, qd. she, he was in the field, and

had broke out of the stable, where he stood fast locked

in mighty strong yron fetters, which hee burst in peeces

as they had beene straws, and broke downe the stable

doore, and so got away. The good-man comming in at

these speeches, asked what that was they talkt of.

158 THE PliEASAKT HISTOBIB

Many, said his wife wee heare that Cole of Beading is
murdred : I pray you is it true ? I, said Sutton, it is
true, that vile villaine his Oast murdered him, in whose
house the man had spent many a pound. But did they
make pies of him, said his wife ; !N'o, no, quoth her
husband : he was scalded to death in a boyling caldron,
and afterward throwne into a running riuer that is hard
by. But good husband, how was it knownep By his
horse, quoth hee. What, did hee tell his master was
murdered? could thehorse speake English P Jesus what
a foolish woman are you, quoth he, to aske such a ques-
tion ? But to end this, you are all heartily welcome,
good neighbours, and I am sorry you had no better
cheere. So with thanks the women departed. Thus
haue yee heard the diuers tales that will be spred abroad
of an euil deed.

How Duke Eobert deceiued his keepers, and got from
them : how he met faire Margaret, and in carrying
her away was taken, for the which he had his eyes
put out. Chap. 13.

Dtjke Eobert, hauing, as you heard, obtained the loue
of faire Margaret, did now cast in his mind, how hee
might delude his Keepers, and carry her quite away.
In the end he being absolutely resolued what to doe,
sent this letter vnto her, wherein he requested, that she
would be readie to meet him in the Forrest, betwixt
Cardiffe and Glocester.
The young Lady hauing secretly receiued his mes-

OF THOMAS OF READIKG. 159

sage, ynkuowne to her master or dame, in a morning
betime made ber ready and got fortb, walking to the
appointed place, where her Loue should meet her.

During her aboade there, and thinking long ere her
Loue came, she entred into diuers passions, which in-
deed presaged some disaster fortune to follow. O my
deare Loue, said shee, how slacke art thou in perform-
ing thy promise ! why doe not thy deeds agree with thy
indicting ? see these are thy words, Come, my deare
Margaret, and with Cupids swift wings flie to thy friend,
be now as nimble in thy footing, as the Camels of Bac-
tria, that ripine an hundred miles a day, I will waite
and stay for thee, so I stay not too long. There is no
Country like Austria for ambling horses, and to carry
thee I haue got one;

O my Loue (quoth she) here am I, but where art
thou ? O why doest thou play the trewant with time,
who like the wind slides away vnseene ? An ambling
gennet of Spaine is too slow to serue our tumes. A
flying horse, for flying Louers were most meete. And
thus casting many lookes thorow the Siluane shades, vp
and downe to espie him, she thought euery minute an
houre, till she might see him, sometimes she would wish
her self a bird, that she might flie through \he ayre to
meet him, or a pretty squiriU to clime the highest tree
to descry his coming : but finding her wishes vaine, she
began thus to excuse him and perswaded her selfe,
saying;

How much to blame am I, to finde fault with my

160 THE PLBA-SAlfTT HI8T0BI1

friend ? Alas, men that laeke their libeitj, must come
when they can, not when they would, poore prisoners
cannot doe what they desire, and then why should I be
so hastie ? Therefore if safely I may lay me down I
will beguile vnquiet thoughts with quiet sleepe : it is
said that G-alino breeds no Serpents, nor doth Englands
forrests nourish Beares or Lyons, therefore without
hurt I hope I may rest awile. Thus leaning faire Mar-
garet in a sweet slumber, we will returne to Duke
Bobert, who had thus plotted his escape from his
keepers.

Hauing liberty of the King to hawke an4 hunt, hee
determined on a day, as he should follow the chase, to
leaue the hounds to the Hart, and the hunters to their
homes, and befing busie in their sport, himselfe would
flie, which hee performed at that time when hee ap-
pointed Margaret to meete him, and so comming to the
place, his horse all on a water, and himself in a sweat,
finding his Loue asleepe, he awaked her with a kisse,
saying. Arise faire Margaret, now comes the time
wherein thou shalt be made a Queene : and presently
setting her on horsebacke, he posted away.

Now, when the Keepers saw they had lost his com-
pany, and that at the killing of the game, hee was not
present, they were among themselues in such a mutiny,
that they were ready one to stabbe another. It was thy
fault, said one, that hee thu^ escapt &om vs, that hadst
more mind of thy pleasure, then of thy prisoner, and by
this meanes we are all vndone. The other said as much

or THOMAS OF BEADING. 161

to him, that he had thought he had followed him in the
chase : but leauing at last this contention, the one
posted vp to the King, while the others coasted vp and
downe the Country to search for the Duke, who hauing
kild his horse in traueUing, was most vnhappilj mette
on foot with faire Margaret, ere he could come to any
towne, where he might for money haue another. But
when he espyed his Keepers come to take him, he de-
sired Margaret to make shifb for herselfe, and to seeke
to escape them. But she being of a contrary mind,
said, she would Hue and die with him.

The Duke seeing himselfe ready to be surprized, drew
out his sword, and said, he would buy his l^liberty with
his life, before he would yeeld to be any more a prisoner;
and thereupon began a great fight betwixt them, inso-
much that the Duke had killed two of them : but him-
seKe being sore wounded, andfaintwithouermuch bleed-
ing, at length fell downe, being not able any longer to
stand : and by this meanes the good Duke was taken
with his faire loue, and both of them committed to
prison.

But in the meane space, when Grayes wife had
missed her maide, and saw she was quite gone, she made
great lamentation for her among her neighbours, for she
loued her as dearly as any child that euer she bore of
her owne body. O Margaret, (quoth she) what cause
hadst thou thus to leaue me P if thou didst mislike of
any thing, why didst thou not tell me ? If thy wages

TOL. I. M

162 THE PLEASAIIT HISTORIE

were too little, I would haue mended it: If thy apparell
had been too simple, thou shouldst haue had better : If
thy worke had bin too great, I would haue had helpe
for thee.

Farewell my sweet Meg, the best seruant that euer
came in any mans house, many may I haue of thy name,
but neuer any of thy nature, thy diligence is much, in
thy hands I laid the whole gouemment of my house, and
thereby eased myselfe of that care, which now wiQ cum-
ber me.

Heere shee hath left me my keyes vnto my chests, but
my comfort is gone with her presence, euery gentle
word that she was wont to 'speake, comes now into my
mind, her courteous behauiour shall I neuer forget :
with how sweet and modest a countenance would she
qualifie my ouer-hastie nature ? It repents my heart
that euer I spoke foule word vnto her. O Meg, wert
thou here againe, I would neuer chide thee more: but I
was an vnworthy Dame for such a seruant : what wiU
become of me now, if I should chance to be sicke, see-
ing she is gone, that was wont to be both my Apoticary
and Physician ?

"Well, quoth her neighbours, there is no remedy now,
but to rest content, you shall one dayheare of her, doubt
you not, and thrnke this, that she was not so good, but
you may get another as good, and therefore doe not take
it so heauily. neighbour, blame me not to grieue,
seeing I haue lost so great a iewell, and sure I am per-

0¥ THOMAS OF EEADIlfa. 163

swaded, that scant in a bodies life time, they shall meet
with the like.

I protest, I would circuit England roundabout on my
bare feet to meet with her againe. O, my Meg was
surely stole away from me, else would she not haue gone
in such sort. Her husband on the other side grieued
as much, and rested not night nor day riding vp and
downe to seeke her ; but shee poore soule, is fast lockt
yp in prison, and therfore cannot be met withall.

But when the King vnderstood of his brothers es-
cape, hee wafi maruelous wroth, giuing great charge and
commandement when he was taken, that both his eyes
should be put out and be kept in prison till his dying
day ; appointing also that the Maid should lose her life
for presumption of louing him.

This matter being rumoured ouer all England, it
came to the eares of Gray and his wife, who hearing
that Margaret also was there in prison appointed to
die, the good aged woman neuer rested till she came to
the Court, where kneeling before the King with many
teares she besought his Maiestie to spare the Maidens
life,saying. Most royall King consider, Ihumbly beseech
you, that the Duke your brother was able to entice any
woman to his loue : much more a silly Maiden, espe-
cially promising her marriage, to make her a Lady, a
Dutchesse, or a Queene, who would refuse such an offer,
when at the instant they might get both a princely hus-
band and a high dignity : if death be a Louers guerdon,

164 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

then what is due to hatred ? I am in my heart per-
Bwaded, that had my poore Margaret thought it would
haue bred your Highnes displeasure, she would neuer
haue bought his loue so deare. Had your Grace made
it known to your Commons, that it was vnlawful for any
to marry the Duke your brother, who would haue at-
tempted such an action : if she had wilfully disobeyed
your Graces commandement, she might haue been
thought worthy of death; but seeing ignorantly she
offended, I beseech your Grace to recall the sentence,
and let me still enioy my seruant, for neuer will I rise,
till your Maiestie haue granted my petition.

His Highnes, who was of nature mercifuU, beholding
the womans abundant teares, tooke pitie on her, and
granted her suite : which being obtained, shee went
home in aU haste possible. And from thence, shee with
her husband taking their ioumey to Cardiffe castle, they
came at that very instant when the Maiden was led to-
ward her death, who went in most ioyfull sort to the
same, saying, that they were not worthy to be accounted
true loners, that were not willing to die for loue : and
so with a smiling countenance she passed on, as if she
had eaten Apium Eisus, which causeth a man to die
laughing: but her Dame Gray seeing her, fell about her
necke, and with many kisses imbraced her, saying, Thou
shalt not die my wench, but goe home with me; and for
thy deliuery, behold here the Kings letters ; and with
that she deliuered them vp to the govemour of the
Castle : who reading them found these words written :

OE THOMAS 01* SEiLDIKa. 165

Wee pardon the maids life, and grant her liberty, but
let her not passe, till she see her Iquers eyes put out,
which we will haue you doe in such sort that not onely
the sight may perish, but the eye continue faire, for
which cause I haue sent downe Doctor Piero, that he
may execute the same.

The G-ouemour of the Castle hauing read the Kings
letter, said thus to the Maiden : The Kings Maiesty
hath pardoned thy life, and allowed thy liberty : but you
must not passe before you see your Loners eyes put out.
O sir, said the Maiden, mistake not your selfe, they are
my eyes that must be put out, and not the Dukes : as
his offence grew by my meanes, so I being guilty, ought
to receiue the punishment.

The Kings commandement must be fulfilled, said
the Q-ouemour : and therewithall Duke Robert was
brought forth, who hearing that he must lose his eyes,
said thus: The Noble mind is neuer conquered by
griefe, nor ouercome by mischance : but as the Hart
reneweth his age by eating the Serpent, so doth a man
lengthen his life with deuouring sorrow : my eyes haue
offended the King, and they must be punished, my heart
is in as great fault, why is not that killed ?

The Kings Maiesty, said the Gouemour, spares your
life of meere loue, and onely is content to satisfie the
Law with the losse of your eyes," wherefore take in good
part this punishment, and thinke you haue deserued
greater then is granted.

With this Margaret cryed out, saying, O my deare

166 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

Loue, most gentle Prince, well may you wish that I had
neuer bin borne, who by seeing of mee must lose your
sight ; but happie should I count my selfe, if it so
please the King, that I might redeeme thy eyes with my
life : or else, that being an equall offender, I might
receiue equall punishment : hadst thou sustained this
smart for some Queene or Frincesse of high blood, it
might with the more ease be borne, but to indure it
for such a one as I, it mtist needs cause a treble griefe
to be increased.

Content thee faire Margaret said the Duke: for
honour ought to be giuen to vertue, and not riches : for
Glory, Honor, Nobility and riches without vertue, are
but clokes of maliciousnes. And now let me take my
leaue of thy beauty, for neuer must I behold thy face :
notwithstanding I account my eyes well lost, in that, I
doe forgoe them for so peereles a paragon. Now faire
heauens farewell, the Sunne, Moone, and Starres shall I
in this world neuer behold againe, and farewell also the
fruitfull earth ; well may I feele thee, but those poore
windowes of my body are now denyed to view thee any
more : and though the world hath euer bin my foe, yet
will I bid thee farewell too, and farewell all my friends,
whiles I live here in this world,! must suppose tosleepe,
and wake when I come in heauen, where I hope to see
you all againe. Yet had it pleased the King, I had
rather haue lost my life then my eyes. Life, why, what
is it but a flowre", a bubble in the water, a spanne long,
and full of miserie : of such small account is life, that

OP THOMAS OF BEADOTO. 167

euery Soldier will sell it for sixpence. And trust me,
I doe now detest life, worse then a goat doth hate
BasiU.

With that the Doctor prepared his instrument^ and
being ready to set to the Dukes eyes, he said, stay
Master Doctor, till I haue conueyed my Loues counte-
nance downe into my heart : Come hither my sweet,
and let me giue thee my last kisse, while mine eyes may
direct me to thy cherry lips. Then imbracing her in his
armes, he said, O that I might giue thee a kisse of xx
yeeres long, and to satisfie my greedy eyes with thy
sight : yet it doth somewhat content me, because thou
art present at my punishment, that I may hold thee by
the hand, to comfort my heart, at the sudden pricke of
my eye.

This being said, the Doctor performed his duty, and
so put out the christall sight : at what time D. Robert
started vp and with a most manly courage said, I must
thanke his Maiestie, that though hee depriueth me of
my sight, yet he leauefch me eyes to weepe for my sinnes.
But so soone as Margaret beheld the deed, she fell
downe in a swoone ; and much a doe her dame had to
recouer her life : which when the Duke vnderstood, hee
was wondrous woe, groaping for her with his bleeding
eyes, saying O where is my Loue ? for Q-ods sake haue
regard to her. And I pray you most heartily, good
good-wife Q-ray, let her haue this fauour for my sake,
that she may be vsed kindly. And with that the Keepers
led him into the Castle, and Margaret was carried away

»1

168 THE PLEASAlfT HISTORIS

wondrous sicke and ill : but her dame was most tender
ouer her ; and would suffer ber to lacke notbing. Wben
sbe was somewbat well recouered, ber Dame Gray set
ber on borsebacke : and at ber comming to Glocester,
tbere was no small ioy.

How Tbomas Done being fallen to decay, was forsaken
of bis friends, and despised of bis seruants : and bow
in tbe end be was raised againe tbrougb tbe liberality
of tbe Clotbiers. Cbap. 14f.

SuoH as seeke tbe pleasure of tbe world, foUow a sbadow
wberein is no substance: and as tbe adder Aspis tickletb
a man to deatb, so dotb yaine pleasure flatter ys, till it
makes vs forget God, and consume our substance, as by
Tom Doue it is apparent, wbo bad tbrougb a firee beart,
and a liberall minde wasted bis wealtb ; and looke bow
bis goods consumed, so bis Mends fled from bim : And
albeit be bad beene of great ability, and thereby done
good vnto many, yet no man regarded bim in bispouerty,
but casting a scomefuU countenance ypon bim, tbey
passed by bim witb slender salutation : neither would
any of bis former acquaintance do bim good, or pleasure
bim the yalue of a farthing ; bis former friendship done
to them was quite forgot, and be made of as much
account, as lob wben be sate on tbe dunghill.

Now, when bis wicked seruants saw him in this dis-
grace witb tbe world, tbey on tbe other side began to
disdaine bim. Notwithstanding that bee (to bis great

I

»

OF THOMAS OV SEADIKG. 169

cost) had long time brought them vp, yet did they
nothing regard it, but behind his baeke in most scome-
full sort derided him, and both in their words and actions
greatly abuse him, reuerence they would doe none vnto
him, but when they spake, it was in such malapert sort,
as would grieue an honest minde to heare it.

At last it came to passe, that breaking out into meere
contempt, they said they would stay no longer with him,
and that it was a great discredit for them, to serue a
person so beggerly : whereupon they thought it conue-
nient to seeke for their benefits elsewhere. When the
distressed man found the matter so plaine being in great
griefe, he spake thus vnto them : Now do I find, to my
sorrow, the small trust that is in this false world. Why,
my Masters (quoth he) haue you so much forgotten my
former prosperity, that you nothing regard my present
necessity ? In your wants I forsooke you not, in your
sicknesse I left you not, nor despised you in your great
pouerty : it is not vnknowne, though you doe not con-
sider it, that I tooke some of you vp in the high-way,
othersome from your needy parents, and brought the
rest from meere beggery to a house of bounty ; where
from paltrie boyes, I brought you vp to mans state, and
haue, to my great cost, taught you a trade, whereby you
may Hue like men. And in requitall of all my courtesie,
cost and good will, will you now on a sudden forsake
me P Is this the best recompence that you can find your
hearts to yeeld mee P

170 THE PLZASUTF HISTOBIE

This is farre from the minds of honest seraants.
The fierce Lion is kind to those that doe him good :
plucke but one thome out of his foot, and for the same
he will shew manifold fauors. The wilde Bull will not
ouerthrow his dam : and the veiy Dragons are dutifull
to their nourishers. Bee better aduised and call to
mind, I beseech you, that I haue not pluckt a thome out
of your feet, but drawne your whole bodies out of perils,
and when you had no meanes to helpe your seines, I
onely was your support, and he, that when all other
forsooke you, did comfort you in all your extremities.

And what of all this, quoth one of them ? because
you tooke vs vp poore, doth it therefore follow, that we
must be your slaues ? "We are young men, and for our
part, we are no further to regard your profit, then it
may stand with our preferment : Why should we lose
our benefit to pleasure you ? if you taught vs our trade,
and brought vs vp from boies to men, you had our
sendee for it, whereby you made no small benefit, if you
had as well vsed it as we got it. But if you be poore,
you may thanke your selfe, being a iust scourge for
your prodigalitie, and is my opinion plaine, that to
stay with you, is the next way to make vs like you,
neither able to helpe our selues, nor our friends : there-
fore in briefe ; come pay me my wages, for I vnH not
stay ; let the rest doe as they will, for I am resolued.

"Well said his Master, if needs thou wilt be gone,
here is part of thy wages in hand, and the rest as soone

OF THOMAS OF BEADIVO. 171

as God sends it, thou shalt haue it : and with that,
turning to the rest, he said. Let me yet intreat jou to
stay, and leaue me not altogether destitute of helpe : b j
your labours must I line, and without you I know not
what to doe. Consider therefDre my need, and regard
my great charge. And if for my sake you will doe
nothing, take compassion of my poore children ; stay
my sliding foot, and let me not ytterly &11, through your
flying from me.

Tush (quoth they) what do you talke toys? "We can
haue better wages, and serue a man of credit, where our
fare shall be farre better, and our gaines greater : there-
fore the world might count ts right cozcomes, if we
should forsake our profit, to pleasure you : therefore
adieu, G-od send you more money, for you are like to
haue no more men: and thus they departed.

When they were gone, within a while after they met
one with another, saying. What cheare ? are you all come
away : in faith I, what should we doe else, quoth they:
but hear*st thou sirra, hast thou got thy wages ? Not yet
saith the other, but I shall haue it, and that is as good,
tis but X shillings. Saist thou so (said he) now I see
thou art one of God Almighties idiots: Why so, said the
other ? Because (quoth he) thou wilt be fed with shales:
but He tell thee one thing, twere better for thee quickly
to arrest him, lest some other doing it before, and there
be nothing left to pay thy debt: hold thy peace,
faire words make fooles faine, and it is an old

172 THE PLEA.SiJrT HISTOSIE

saying, One bird in hand is worth two in bush:
if thou dost not arrest him presently^ I will not
giue: thee two pence for thy i. shillings. How shall I
come by him, quoth the other ? giue me but two pots
of ale, and lie betray him, said he. So they being
agreed, this smooth;faced ludas comes to his late master,
and told him that a friend of his at the doore would
speake with him. The ynmistrusting man thinking no
euill, went to the doore where presently an Officer
arrested him at his mans suite.

The poore man seeing this, being strucken into a
sudden sorrow, in the griefe of his heart spake to this
effect : Ah thou lewd fellow, art thou the first man that
seekes to augment my miserie P Haue I thus long giuen
thee bread, to breed my ouerthrow ? and nourisht thee
in thy neede, to worke iny destruction ? Full little did
I thinke, when thou so often diddest dip thy false fingers
in my dish, that I gaue food to my chiefest foe : but
what boote complaints in these extremes ? Q-oe wife,
quoth he, vnto my neighbours, and see if thou canst get
any of them to be my baile. But in vaine was her paines
spent. Then he sent to his kinsfolkes, and they denied
him : to his brother, and he would not come at him, so
that there was no shift, but to prison he must : but as
he was going, a Messenger met him with a letter from
Master Cole, wherein as you heard, hee had promised
him two hundred pounds : which when the poore man
read, hee greatly reioyced, and shewing the same to the

OT THOMAS OF BEADIKG* 173

Officer, hee was content to takehis owne worde. Where-
upon Tom Done went presently to Eeading, where at
his comming, he found all the rest of the Clothiers,
lamenting Coles vntimely death; where the wofull
widdow paid him the money, by which deed all the
rest of the Clothiers were induced to doe some-
thing for Done. And thereupon one gaue him
ten pounds, another twenty, another thirtie pounds,
to begin the world anew : and by this meanes (toge-
ther with the blessing of God) he grew into greater
credit then euer hee was before. And riches being
thus come vpon him, his former friends came fawn-
ing ynto him and when he had no neede of them,
then euerie one was readie to proffer him kindnesse.
His wicked seruants also that disdained him in his dis-
tresse, were after glad to come creeping vnto him,
intreating with cap and knee for his fauour and
friendship. And albeit hee seemed to forgiue their
trespasses done against him, yet hee would often say,
he would neuer trust them for a straw. And thus he
euer after lined in great wealth and prosperitie, doing
much good to the poore, and at his death, left to his
children great lands.

174 THE PLEASjU^T histobib

How faire Margaret made her estate and high birth
knowne to her Master and Dame : and for the intire
loue she bore to Duke Eobert, made a vow neuer to
marry, but became a Nun in the Abbey at Glocester.
Chap. 15.

Afteb faire Margaret was come againe to Glocester
neuer did she behold the cleare day, but with a weeping
eye : and so great was the sorrow which she conceiued,
for the losse of Duke Bobert her faithfull Louer, that
she ytterly despised all the pleasures of this life, and
at last bewrayed her seUe in this sort vnto her Dame:

O my good Master and Dame, too long haue I dis-
sembled my parentage from you, whom the froward
destinies doe pursue to deserued punishment. The
wofuU daughter am I of the vnhappy Earle of Shrews-
burie, who euer since his banishment, haue done nothing
but drawne mischance after mee : wherefore let me in-
treat you (dear Master and Dame) to haue your good
wills, to spend the remnant of my life in some blessed
Monasterie.

When G-ray and his wife heard this, they wondred
greatly, as well at her birth, as at her strange demaund.
Whereupon her dame knew not how to call her, whe-
ther Maiden or Madam, but said, O good Lord, are you
a Ladie, and 1 know it not P I am sorrie that I knew it
not before. But when the folkes of the house heard
that Margaret was a Lady, there was no small altera-
tion : and moreouer her Dame said, that she had

OF THOMAS OF BEADIKO. 175

thouglit to haue had a match between her and her son :
and by many perswasions did seeke to withdraw her
from being a Nun, saying in this manner : What Mar-
garet, thou art young and faire, the world (no doubt)
hath better fortune for thee whereby thou maist leaue
an honourable issue behind thee, in whom thou mayst
line afber death.

These and many other reasons did they alledge vnto
her, but all in vaine : she making this reply, Who
knowes not that this world giueth the pleasure of an
houre, but the sorrow of many dales ? for it paieth euer
that which it promiseth, which is nothiag else but con-
tinuall trouble and vexation of the minde. Do you think,
if I had the offer and choice of the mightiest Princes of
Christendom, that I could match my selfe better then
to my Lord Jesus P No, no, hee is my husband, to
whom I yeeld my selfe both body and soule, giuing to
him my heart, my loue and my most firme affections :
I haue ouerlong loued this vile world: therefore I-
beseech you farther disswade me not.

When her friends by no meanes could alter her
opinion, the matter was made knowne to his Maiestie,
who against the time that she should be receiued into
the Monasterie, came to Glocester with most part of his
Nobilitie, to honourheractionwithhisprincelypresence.

Ail things being therefore prepared, the young Lady
was in most princely-wise attired in a gowne of pure
white sattin> her kirtle of the same, embroidered with
gold about the skirts in most curious sort, her head was

176 THE PLEASANT HISTOBIE

garnished with gold, pearles, and precious stones,
bauing her haire like thrids of bumisht gold, banging
downe behind in manner of a princely bride : about her
yuory necke iewels of inestimable price were hung, and
herhandwrests were compassed about with bracelets of
bright-shining Diamonds.

The streets thorow the which she should passe, were
pleasantly deckt with greene oaken boughs. Then
came the young Lady most like an heauenly Angell out
of her masters house, at what time all the bells in Glo-
cester were solemnly rung : she being led betwixt the
Kings Maiestie, hauing on his Eoyal Robes, and Impe-
rial! Crowne, and the chiefe Bishop wearing his Mitre,
in a Cope of cloth of gold, ouer her head a Canopy of
white sUke, fringed about in princely manner : before
her went an*hundred Priests singing, and after her all
the chiefe Ladies of the Land : then all the wiues and
Maidens of Glocester followed, with an innumerable
sort of people on euery side standing to behold her. In
this sort she passed on to the Cathedrall Church, where
she was brought to the Nunry gate.

The Lady Abbesse receiued her : where the beautiful
Maiden kneeling downe, made her prayer in sight of all
the people : then with her owne hands she vndid her
virgins faire gowne, and tooke it off, and gaue it away
to the poore : after that, her kirtle, then her iewels,
bracelets and rings, saying, Farewell the pride and
vanitie of this world. The ornaments of her head were
the next shee gaue away : and then was shee led on one

07 THOMi.8 07 S£iJ)IIfa. 177

side, where she was stripped, aad in stead of her smocke
of soft silke had a smocke of rough haire put vpon her.

Then came one with a paire of sheares, and cut off
her golden-coloured lockes, and with dust and ashes all
bestrewed her head and face. Which being done, she
was brought againe into the peoples sight bare foot and
bare leg'd, to whom she said : Now farewell the world,
farewell the pleasures of this life, farewell my Lord the
King, and to the Dukes sweet loue farewell, now shall
my eyes weepe for my former transgressions, and no
more shall my tongue talke of vanity ; farewell my good
Master and Dame, and fiireweU all good people.

"With which words she was taken away, and neuer
after scene abroad. When Duke Robert heard thereof,
he desired that at his death, his body might be buried in
Glocester : in that Towne, quoth he, where first my
cleare eyes beheld the heauenly beauty of my Loue, and
where for mt sake shee forsooke the world : which was
performed accordingly.

The King also at his death requested to be buried at
Reading, for the great loue hee bare to that place,
among those Clothiers, who lining were his hearts com-
fort. Gray dying wondrous wealthy, gaue land to the
Monasterie whereinto Margaret was taken. William
Fitzallen also dyed a most rich man, hauing builded
many houses for the poore, whose Sonne Henry after
was the first Maior that was euer in London.

Sutton of Salisbury did also at his death much good,
and gaue an hundred li. to be yeerely lent to poore

VOL. I. K

178 THE PLIi.BiLNT HISTOBIE.

weauers of the Towne, to the worlds end. Simon of
South-hampton gaue a most bounteous gift towards the
building of a Monastery at Winchester. Hodgkins of
HallifaK did also great good, and so did Gutbert of
Kendall, who had married xxiii. couples out of his owne
house, giuing each of them z. li. to beginne the world
withall. Martin Briam of Manchester gaue toward the
building of a free-schoole in Manchester, a great masse
of money. And thus (gentle reader) haue I finished
my storie of these worthy men, desiring thee to take my
paines in good part, which will ingage me to greater
matters, perceiuing this curteously accepted.

rrNis.

FRYER BACON.

•♦.

i

PEYEE BACON.

"When we observe the tendency which has been
shown by the generality of mankind in all ages and
countries, to estimate the capabilities of the homan
mind by the limited powers which have been allotted
to themselves, we cannot be surprized that they
should endeavoiur to reduce the master-spirits of
Genius and Philosophy to their own level, by attri-
butiag the superior acquirements of such master-
spirits to the influence of demoniacal agency. Such
has ever been the solution which the vulgar have
given to the apparently mysterious power which
superior inteUect possessed over them, while the few
whose better knowledge should have led them to check
so delusive and dangerous an opinion were too often
induced by feelings of envy, if not openly to encourage,
at least tacitly to sanction it. Among the many who
have been thus treated, none have been so more un-
justly than Eoger Bacon, who in the three first
chapters of his Epistle on the Power of Art and
Nature, expressly declares againBt magic, unlawful

182 PBETAOB.

books, characters and spells ; but is in the following
tale transformed firom the greatest philosopher of his
age into a beneficent and powerful conjiiror.

The history of Erjer Bacon as related in these
pages, was probably written towards the close of the
sixteenth century, and is we may suppose a collection
of the various traditions respecting him which were
current among all classes of the community when the
nan^adtve was compiled. Many of the incidents con-
tained in it are widely diffused in other shapes, and
the name of our hero has doubtless offcen been con-
nected with them merely from their being mutual
subjects of popular fable : but the Brazen Head and
the wonderful Perspective Glass, which he is reported
to have made, seem deserving of particular notice,
though any credit which may be given to him for
his exertions in constructing sudh a head, " by the
which hee would have waUed England round with
brass," he will I fear have to share with so many
who are said to have possessed similar skill in the
construction of magical images that it will be consi-
derably diminished. Virgil is reported to have con-
structed certain images called Salvacio Bom», which
are fully described in that extraordioary production
the Lyfe of Yirgilius which will be found in the
second volume of this collection. Bobert Greathead

PBEFAOE. 183

or Grostete^ commonly called Bobert of Lincoln,
is coupled with our hero by Butler, who speaks of
*^ Old Hodge Bacon and Bob Grostead," and is re-
ported by Gower to have constructed a brazen head
which could speak —

For of the grete Clerk Grostest,
I rede how bosj that he was
Upon the clergie, an head of bras
To forge and make it for to telle
Of suche thinges as befelle.
And seven yeres besinesse
He laid, but for the lachesse
Of half a minute of an honre
Fro firste he began labonre
He loste all that he hadde do.
And other while it fareth so
In loves cause, who is slowe
That he without under the wowe
By night stant fiill oft a eolde,
Which mighte, if that he had wolde
His time kept, have be withinne.

Cor^fesiio AmantiSf Liber Quartut,*

William of Malmsbury mentions a similar one con-
structed by Pope Sylvester the Second. " I have in-
serted this narrative of the Aquitanian," says
Malmesbury in Dr. Giles translation,t *' to the intent

* Vol. 2. p. 9. of New Edition of Gower, edited by Dr. Pauli.
f Bohn's Antiq. Lib. p. 181.

184 FBE7ACE.

that what is reported of Gerbert should not seem
wonderful to any person, which is, that he cast, for
his own purposes, the head of a statue, bj a certain
inspection of the stars when the planets were about
to begin their courses, which spake not unless spoken
to, but then pronounced the truth, either in the affir-
mative or negative. For instance when Gerbert
would say, ' Shall I be pope ?' the statue would re-
ply * Yes ?' * Am I to die ere I sing mass at Jeru-
salem ?' * No.' They relate that he was so much deceived
by this ambiguity that he thought nothing of repen-
tance, for when would he think of going to Jerusalem
to accelerate his own death." The Chronicler then tells
that there is a Church at Eome called Jerusalem
where the Pope sings mass on Three Sundays which
are called The Station at Jerusalem, and then proceeds,
** wherefore upon one of these days Gerbert preparing
himself for mass was suddenly struck with sickness,
which increased so that he took to his bed and con-
sulting his statue he became convinced of his delusion
and of his approaching death."

Tepes also affirms that Henry de Villeine made such
a one at Madrid, which was afterwards broken to pieces
by order of John the Second, King of Castile ; and
upon numerous authorities, the same thing has been

n

PBEPACE. 185

asserted of Albertus Magnus.* And here let me
extract what Sir Thomas Browne says upon this sub-
ject in his Vulgar Errors. Book 7. Cap. 17.

" Every ear is filled with the story of Eriar Bacon,
that made a Brazen Head to speak these words Time
is, which though they want not the like relation, is
surely too literally received, and was but a mystical
fable concerning the philosopher's great work, where-
in he eminently laboured ; implying no more by the
copper head than the vessel where it was wrought ;
and by the words it spake, than the opportunity to
be watched about the tempus ortus, or birth of the
mystical child, or philosophical king of LulHus, the
rising of the terra foHata of Amoldus ; when the
earth, sufficiently impregnated with the water, as-
cendeth white and splendent; which not observed
the work is irrecoverably lost, according to that of
Petrus Bonus * Ibi est operis perfectio, aut anmhila-
tio, quoniam ipse die oriantur elementa simplicia,
depurata, qusB egent statim compositione, antequam
volent ab igne.' Now letting sUp this critical oppor-
tunity, he missed the intended treasure : which had

* Stow mentions a head of earth made at Oxford by the art
of necromancy, in the reign of Edward the Second, that at a time
appointed spake these words, Caput decidetur, the head shall be
cut off : Caput elevabitur, the head shall be lift up ; Pedes elevabun-
tur supra caput f the feet shall be lifted above the head.

186 PREFACE.

he obtained, he might have made out the tradition of
making a brazen wall about England, that is, the
most powerful defence or strongest fortification which
gold could have effected."

The fable of his wonderful perspective glass evi-
dently derives its origin from his weU-known skiU in
optics, to the improvement of which science he greatly
contributed. The Camera Obscura and Burning Qlass,
both of which are obviouslv alluded to in the Eo-
mance, are mentioned by Bacon in his Opus Magus,
and the supposition which has arisen from a passage
in that work, that he was the Inventor of the Teles-
cope, derives additional confirmation from the evidence
thus afforded by tradition.

His stratagem to save the lives of three brethren
is borrowed from the Q-esta Romanorum, and is the
45th Story, fol. 38, of the edition printed at Paris,
by Jehan Petit, 8vo. 1506 : while Miles conjuring for
meat, resembles in its incidents C|^e dTnitff sA fiir-
toufe, a tale supposed to be written by Dunbar, who
died about 1625, which is printed in Pinkerton's
Scotch Poems, vol. i. p. 65. The contention between
Bacon, Bungay and Vandermast, though productive
of many wonderful feats of art, will hardly bear com-
parison in that respect with the following contest,
recorded by Dubravius, Hist, Bohem, and repeated by

PBBVjkOB. 187

Elogel in his Geschichte der JSbfikirren, s. 214. When
Charles 4th celebrated his nuptials with the Eaya-
rian FnncesB Sophia, the bride's father brought a
waggon load of magicians with him to enliven the
City of Prague. Two of the chief artists were selected
bj the court to contend with each other in diablerie ;
when the great Bohemian Sorcerer Zjtho, after a
desperate trial of skill, seized the Bavarian master
Gouin, and opening his jaws from ear to ear, gobbled
him up from top to toe, hide and aU, until he came to his
shoes. !N'ot liking the flavour of these he spat them
out, declaring they must first be cleaned. Next he
restored his rival to life with the same facility as he
had eaten him.

As might be expected from its popularity, there are
innumerable editions of the History of Friar Bacon,
which differ very slightly from each other. The
earliest probably is that which bears the same title as
the one now reprinted ; it is without date, but is stated
to be ^'printedat London by E. A. for Francis Grove" —
E. A. being doubtless Elizabeth Aide, for whom the
edition of Greene's Play was printed in 1630. It
has continued to be printed in a popular form up to
the present centiuy.

"The honorable Histobt of Feebr Bacok ajstd
Feibb Bongat, as it was plaied by her Majesties

188 PBSPACE.

servants. Made by Eobert Greene, Maister of Arts.
London, printed for Edward White, and are to be
sold at his shop, at the little north dore of Poules at
the signe of the Gun, 1594," 4to. is a play similar in
its incidents to the present narrative, upon which it is
probably founded, as it was the custom with the Dra-
matists of that day to adopt some popular tale as the
foundation of their work. There were also editions
of this play printed in 1599, 1630 and 1655.

There is one tradition connected with the history of
Priar Bacon which is not mentioned either in the Flay
or the Eomance, namely, that he acquired his skill
in magic by promising himself to the devil, after his
death, provided he died either in the church or out of
it ; and the fulfilment of which contract he evaded,
when he felt his end approaching, by causing a cell to
be formed neither in nor out of, but in the wall of
the church, wherein he both died and was buried.

"We cannot bring these scanty notes to a close with-
out expressing our hope that the learned Biographer
of Jerome Cardan and Cornelius Agrippa, may employ
his able pen on the production of a life of EoaEB
Bacon ; not Friar Bacon— but Eoger Bacon the old
English Philosopher.

THE

FAMOUS HISTORIE

OF

Jrper Bawm

CONTAINING

THE WONDEEFULL THINGS THAT HE DID IN HIS
LIFE : ALSO THE MANNER OF HIS DEATH;

WITH THE LIVES AND DEATHS OF THE TWO CONIU-
RERS, BUNGTE AND YANDERHAST.

VERY PLEASANT AND DELIOHTFULL TO BB READ.

PRINTED AT LONDON BY E. A. FOR FRANCIS OROUE, AND

ARE TO BE SOLD AT HIS SHOP, AT THE VPPER-BND

OF SNOW-HILL, AGAINST THE SARAZENS HEAD.

r

THE FAMOUS HISTOEIE OF FETEE

BACON.

Of the Parents and Birth of Fryer Bacon, and how he
addicted himselfe to Learning.

Ik most men's opinions he was borne in the west part

of England and was sonne to a wealthy farmer, who put

him to schoole to the parson of the towne where hee

was borne : not with intent that he should tume fryer

(as he did,) but to get so much understanding, that he

might manage the better that wealth hee was to leave

him. But young Bacon tooke his learning so fast, that

the priest could not teach him any more, which made

him desire his master that he would speake to his father

to put him to Oidbrd, that he might not lose that little

learning that hee had gained : his master was very

willing so to doe : and one day meeting his father, told

him, that he had received a great blessing of God, in

that he had given him so wise and hopefull a child, as ^f

his Sonne Roger Bacon was (for so was he named) and '

wished him withall to doe his duty, and to bring up so

his child, that hee might shewhis thankfulnesse to Gk>d,

which could not better be done then in making of him a

192 THE PAMOUS HISTOBY

scholler ; for he found by his sodaine talking of his
learning, that hee was a childe likely to prove a very
great clerke : hereat old Bacon was not well pleased
(for he desifed to bring him up to plough and to the
cart, as hee himselfe was brought) yet he for reverence
sake to the priest, shewed not his anger, but kindly
thanked him for his paines and counsell, yet desired him
not to speake any more concerning that matter ; for
hee knew best what best pleased himselfe, and that he
would doe : so broke they off their talke, and parted.
So soone as the old man came home, he called to his
Sonne for his bookes, which when he had, he lock'd
them up, and gave the boy a cart whip in the place of
them, saying to him : Boy, I will have you no priest,
you shall not be better learned than I, you can tell now
by the almanack when it is best sowing wheat, when
barly, pease, and beane : and when the best libbing is,
when to sell graine and cattell I will teach thee ; for I
have all faires and markets as perfit in my memory, as
Sir John our priest has masse without booke : take mee
this whip, I will teach thee the use of it, it will be more
profitable to thee then this harsh Latin : make no reply,
but foUow my counsell, or else by the masse thou shalt
feele the smart hand of my anger. Young Bacon
thought this but hard dealing, yet would he not reply,
but within sixe or eight dayes he gave his father the
slip, and went to a cloyster some twenty miles off,
where he was entertained, and so continued his learning,

OF FRTEE BACON. 193

and in small time came to be so famous, that he was
sent for to the University of Oxford, where he long
time studied, and grew so excellent in the secrets of
art and nature, that not England onely, but all Chris-
tendome admired him.

How the king sent for Eryer Bacon, and of the wonder-
full things he shewed the king and queene.

The king being in Oxfordshire, at a Noblemans house,

was very desirous to see this famous fryer, for he had heard

many times of his wondrous things that he had done by

his art : therefore hee sent one for him to desire him to

come to the court. Fryer Bacon kindly thanked the king

by the messenger, and said, that he was at the kings

service, and would suddenly attend him : but sir, saith,

he (to the gentleman) I pray make you haste, or else I

shall be two houres before you at the court. For all

your learning (answered the gentleman) I can hardly

beleeve this, for schollers, old-men and travellers, may
lye by authority. To strengthen your beliefe (said
JbVyer Bacon) I could presently shew you the last wench

that you lay withall, but I will not at this time. One is

as true as the other (said the gentleman) and I would

laugh to see either. You shall see them both within

these foure houres, quoth the fryer, and therefore make

what haste you can. I will prevent that by my speed

(said the gentleman) and with that rid his way: but he

rode out of his way, as it should seem ; for he had but

TOL. I. o

194l THE FAMOUS HISTORY

five miles to ride, and yet was he better than three
houres a riding them ; so that Fryer Bacon by his art
was with the king before he came.

The king kindly welcommed him, and said that hee
long time had desired to see him ; for he had as yet not
heard of his life. Fryer Bacon answered him that fame
had belide him, and given him that report that his poore
studies had never deserved, for hee beleeved that art had
many sonnes more excellent then himselfe was. The
king commended him for his modesty, and told him, that
nothing could become a wise manlesse thanboasting : but
yet withall he requested him now to be no niggard of his
knowledge, but to shew his queene and him some of his
skill. I were worthy of neither art or knowledge (quod
Fryer Bacon), shoidd I deny your maiestie this small
request : I pray seat yourselves, and you shall see pre-
sently what my poore skill can performe : the king,
queene, and nobles sate them all down. They having
so done, the fryer waved his wand, and presently was
heard such excellent musicke that they were all amazed,
for they all said they had never heard the like. This is,
said the &yer, to delight the sense of hearing, I will de-
light all your other sences ere you depart hence : so
waving his wand againe, there was lowder musicke
heard, and presently five dancers entred, the first like a
court-laundresse, the second like a footman, the third
like an usurer, the fourth like a prodigall, thefiftlikea
foole : these did divers excell^it changes, so that they
gave content to all the beholders, and having done their

OP FBTETE BACON. 195

dance, they all yanislied away in their order as they came
in. Thus feasted he two of their sences ; then waved he
his wand againe, and there was another kind of musicke
heard, and whilest it was playing, there was sodainly
before them a table richly covered with all sorts of deli-
cates : then desired he the king and queene to taste of
some certaine rare fruits that were on the table, which
they and the nobles there present did, and were very
highly pleased with the taste ; they being satisfied, all
vanished away on the sodaine. Then waved he his wand
againe, and sodainly there was such a smell, as if all the
rich perfumes in the whole world had bin there pre-
pared in the best manner that art could set them out :
whilst hee feasted thus their smelling, he waved his
wand agarne, and their came divers nations in sundry
habits (as Eussians, Polanders, Indians, Armenians) all
bringing sundry kinds of f urres, such as their countries
yeelded: all which they presented to the king and
queene : these furres were so soft in the touch, that they
highly pleased all those that handled them, then afber
some odde fantasticke dances (after their countrey
manner) they vanished away : then asked Tryer Bacon
the king's majesty, if that hee desired any more of his
skiU ? the king answered that hee was fully satisfied for
that time, and that hee onely now thought of something
that hee might bestow on him, that might partly satisfie
the kindnesse that hee had received. Pryer Bacon said,
that hee desired nothing so much as his maiesties love,
and if that he might be assured of that, hee would thinke
himselfe happy in it : for that (said the king) be thou

196 THE FAMOUS HISTOKY

ever sure of it, in token of which receive this jewell, and
withall gave him a costly jewell from his necke. The
fryer did with great reverence thanke his maiestie, and
said : as your maiesties vassall you shall ever finde me
ready to do you service, your time of neede shall finde it
both beneficiall and delightfull. But amongst all these
gentlemen, I see not the man that your grace did send
for me by, sure he hath lost his way, or else met with
some sport that detaines him so long. I promised to be
here before him, and all this noble assembly can wit-
nesse I am as good as my word : I heare him comming :
with that entered the gentleman all bedurted (for he
had rid through ditches, quagmires, plashes, and waters,
that hee was in a most pittifull case) he seeing the fryer
there looked full angerly, and bid a poxe on all his
devils, for they had led him out of his way, and almost
drowned him. Be not angry sir (said Fryer Bacon) here
is an old friend of yours that hath more cause : for she
hath tarried these three houres for you (with that hee
pulled up the hangings, and behinde them stood a
kitchen-mayde with a basting-ladle in her hand) now
am I as good as my word with you : for I promised to
helpe you to your sweetheart, how do you like this ? So
ill, answered the gentleman, that I will be revenged of
you. Threaten not (said Fryer Bacon) least I do you
more shame, and doe you take heed how you give schol-
lers the lye againe : but because I know not how well
you are stored with money at this time, I will bear your
wenches charges home : with that she vanished away :

or FKTEK BACON. 197

the king, queene, and all the company laughed to see
with what shame this gentleman indured the sight of
his greasie sweetheart : but the gentleman went away
discontented. This done Fryer Bacon tooke his leave
of the King and Queene, and received from them divers
gifts (as well as thankes) for his art he shewed them.

How Fryer Bacon deceived his Man, that would fast for

his conscience sake.

Fetee Bacon had one onely man to attend on him
and he too was none of the wisest, for he kept him in
charity, more then for any service he had of him. This
man of his (named Miles) never could indure to fast a?
other religious persons did, for alwayes hee had in one
comer, or another, flesh which hee would eate when his
maister eat bread only, or else did fast and abstaine from
all things. Fryer Bacon seeing this, thought at one time
or other to be even with him, which he did one Fry day
in this manner. Miles on the Thursday night had provi-
ded a great blacke-pudding for his Frydayes fast : this
pudding put he in his pocket (thinking belike to heate
it so, for his maister had no fire on those dayes) on the
next day, who was so demure as Miles, hee looked as
though hee would not have eat any thing : when his
maister offerd him some bread, hee refused it, saying his
sinnes deserved a greater penance then one dayes fast in
a whole weeke : his maister commended him for it, and
bid him take heed that he did not dissemble : for if he
did, it would at last be knowne ; then were I worse

198 XHE FAMOUS HIBTOBT

then a Turke said Miles : so went he forth as if he
would have gone to pray privately, but it was for no-
thing but to prejupon his blacke pudding ; that pulled
he out, (for it was halfe roasted with the heate) and fell
to it lustily ; but he was deceived, for having put one
end in his mouth, he could neither get it out againe nor
bite it off, so that hee stamped out for helpe : his mais-
ter hearing him, came ; and finding him in that manner,
tooke hold of the other end of the pudding, and led
him to the hall, and shewed him to all the schollers,
saying : see here my good Mends and fellow students
what a devout man my servant Miles is, he loveth not
to break a fast day, witnesse this pudding that his con-
science will not let him swaUow : I will have him to be
an example for you all, then tyed hee him to a window
by the end of the pudding, where poore Miles stood like
a beare tyed by the nose to a stake, and indured many
floutes and mockes : at night his maister released him
from his penance ; Miles was glad of it, and did vow
never to breake more fast dayes whUst that he lived.

How Fryer Bacon saved a Gentleman that had given

himselfe to the Devill.

iKOxfordshire there lived a gentleman, that had through
his riotous expenoes wasted a feme inheritance that was
left him by his father : after which hee grew so poore,
that he had not wherwith to buy himselfe so much
bread as would mainteine his miserable life : the me-
mory of his former state that hee had lived in, and the

OF ITBYSft BACON. 199

present want that he now sustained, made him to grow
desperate and regardlesse both of his soule and bodies
estate : which gave the deviil occasion to worke upon
his weaknesse in this manor following.

On a time, hee being alone full of griefe and care,
(griefe for his folios past, and care how to get a poore
living for the remainder of his dayes) the Devill came
to him and asked him what hee wanted (hee came not
in a shape terrible, but like an old penny-father.) This
gentleman was amazed at his sodaine presence, but
hearing him demand of his wants, hee tooke to him cou-
rage and said : I want all things, I want money to buy
my apparell, money to buy mee meat, money to redeeme
my 'land and money to pay my debts : can or will you
helpe mee in this misery ? I will answered the Devill,
on some conditions helpe you to money for to supply all
these wants and that sodainly. On any condition, said
the Gl-entleman, helpe mee, and I sweare for to per-
forme them : I take no oathes (answered the Deyill) I
must, have bonds, if you will doe so, meet mee by the
woods side to morrow morning, and there I wiU have
the moneys ready : I will said the gentleman (for hee
poore man was glad of it on any conditions, as he said
before.) The next day hee went to the wood where the
Devill had promised to meet him : long had he not been
there, but he beheld the Devil comming, and after him
two other like servingmen with bagges of money : this
reioyced the poore gentlemans heart to thinke that hee
should once again live like a man. The DeviQ comming

200 THE TAMOVS HISTOBY

to him said : sonne I wiD performe my promise unto yoa
if that you will seale to the conditions that I have here
already drawne: willingly said the gentleman, I will, I
pray read them. The Devill read them to this effect : that
he lent him so much money as he should have need of,
to beimployedto these uses following : First, to redeeme
bis mortgaged land : next to pay his debts : lastly, to
buy him such necessaries as hee wanted : this to be
lent on this condition, that so soone as he had paid all
debts, that he should be at the lenders disposing, and his
without any delay, freely to yeeld himselfe to him upon
the first demand of the aforesaid lender. To this the
gentleman sealed, and had the money carried to his
chamber, with which money hee in short time redeemed
his land, and bought such things as he needed, and like-
wise payed all his debts, so that there was not any man
that could aske him one penny.

Thus lived this gentleman once againe in great credit,
and grew so great a husband that he increased his
estate, and was richer then ever his father before him
was : but long did this joy of his not continue, for one
day hee being in his studie the Devil appeared unto
him, and did tell him that now his land was redeemed,
and his debts paid, and therefore the time was come
that hee must yeeld himselfe to his mercy, as hee was
bound by bond. This troubled the gentleman to heare,
but more to thinke how that he must become a slave to
a stranger that hee did not know (for hee knew not as
yet that he was the Devill) but being urged to answer for

I

OF rBY£B BACON. 201

himselfe (by the devill) hee said that hee had not as
yet paid all his debts, and therefore as yet hee was not
liable to the bonds strait conditions. At this the Deyill
seemed angry and with a fearefuU noyse transfformed
himselfe to an ugly shape, saying, alas poore wretch,
these are poore excuses that thou framest, 1 know them
all to be false, and so will prove them to thy face to
morrow morning, till when I leave thee to despaire : So
with great noyse he went his way, leaving the gentleman
halfe dead with feare.

When he was gone, the gentleman reviving be-
thought himselfe in what a miserable state he was now
in, then wished he that he had lived and died poorely,
then cursed he all his ambitious thoughts, that led him
first to desire againe that wealth which he had so vainly
by his riot lost : then would hee curse his prodigall
expences that were the originall of all his misery:
thus was he tormented a long time in his minde, at last
he fully resolved to end his wretched life by some violent
death, and to that end he went forth thinking to kill
himselfe, which he had done, had it not beene for the
Fryer : for as he was falling upon his sword, Fryer
Bacon came by and called to him to hold, which he did-
Fryer BacoD demanded of him the cause why he was so
desperate that he would run headlong to hell ? O sir,
said he, the cause is great, and the relation is so terrible
to me, that I would intreat you not to trouble me any
more, but to leave rae to my owne will : his answer
filled the Fryer with amazement and pitty both at once,

V
202 THE FAMOUS HI8T0BT

which made him to uige him in this manner. Sir,
Bhould I Itoye jou to this wilf ull damnation, I were
unfit eyer hereafter to weare or touch any rohe that
belongeth unto the holj order, whereof I am a brother :
you know (I doubt not) that there is given power to the
church to absolve penitent sinners, let net your wilful-
nesse take away from you that benefit which you may
receive by it : freely confesse your selfe (I pray you)
unto me, and doubt not but I shall give your troubled
conscience ease : Father (said this Gentleman) I know
all that you have spoken is truth, and I have many
times received comfort from the mother church, (I dare
not say our, for I feare that shoe will never receive me
for a childe) I have no part in her benediction, yet since
you request so earnestly the cause, I will tell you, heare
it and tremble. Know then that 1 have given my selfe
to the Devill for a'little wealth, and he to morrow in this
wood must have me : now have you my griefe, but I
know not how to get comfort. This is strange (quoth
Fryer Bacou,) yet be of good comfort, penitentiall teares
may doe much, which see you doe not spare ; soone I
will visit you at your house, and give you that comfort
(I hope) that will beget you againe to goodnesse : the
Gentleman with these words was somewhat comforted
and returned home. At night Fryer Bacon came to
him, and found ^™ full of teares for his haynous of-
fences, for these teares he gave him hope of pardon,
demanded further what conditions hee had made with
the Devill ; the gentleman told him, how that he had

OF ITBTEB BjIlCOK. 203

promised himselfe to him so soone as hee had paid all
' his debts : which he now had doiie« for he owed not one
peny to any man living. WeU said Fryer Bacon, conti-
nue thy sorrow for thy sinnes, and to morrow meete him
without feare, and be thou content to stand to the next
mans iudgement that shall come that way, whether thou
. doest belong to the Devill or no : feare not, but do so,
and be thou assured that I will be he that shall come
by, and will give such iudgement on thy side, that thou
shalt bee free from him : with that Fryer Bacon went
home, and the gentleman went to his prayers.

In the morning the gentleman (after that hee had
blessed himselfe) went to the wood where he found the
Devill ready for him, so soone as he came neere, the
Devill said, now deceiver are you come, now shall thou
see that I can and will prove that thou hast paid all thy
debts, and therefore thy soule belongeth to me. Thou
art a deceiver (said the gentleman) andgavest me money
to cheat me of my soule, for else why wilt thou be thy
own judge : let me have some other to iudge between us.
Content said the Devill, take whom thou wilt : then I
will have (said the gentleman) the next man that com-
meth this way : hereto the Devill agreed. No sooner
were these words ended, but Fryer Bacon came by, to
whom this gentleman speake, and requested, that he
would be iudge in a waighty matter betweene them two :
the Fryer said, he was content, so both parties were
agreed : the Devill said they were, and told Fryer Bacon
how the case stood between them in this manner.

204 THE FAMOUS HISTOIIT

BInow Fryer, that I seeing this prodigall like to
starve for want of food, lent him money, not onely to
buy him victuals, but also to redeeme his lands and pay
his debts, conditionarily that so soone as his debts were
paid, that hee should give himselfe freely to mee, to
this, here is his hand (shewing him the bond) now my
time is expired, for all his debts are paid, which hee
cannot denie. This case is plaine, if it be so that his
debts are paid : his silence confirmes it said the Divell,
therefore give him a iust sentence. I will said Fryer
Bacon : but first tell me (speaking to the gentleman)
didst thou never yet give theDevillany of hismonybacke,
nor requite him any wayes : never had hee any thing of
me as yet (answered the gentleman) : then never let him
have any thing of thee and thou art free ; deceiver of
mankind, said he (speaking to the Devill) it was thy
bargaine, never to meddle with him so long as hee was
indebted to any, now how canst thou demand of hira any
thing, when he is indebted for all that hee hath to thee,
when hee payeth thee thy money, then take him as thy
due ; till then thou hast nothing to doe with him : and
so I charge thee to be gone. At this, the Devill vanished
with great horror, but Fryer Bacon comforted the gen-
tleman, and sent him home Jwith a quiet conscience
bidding him never to pay the Devils money backe as he
tendred his owne safety : which he promised for to
observe.

OF TBTEB BACON. 206

How Fryer Bacon made a Brasen head to speake, by the
which hee would have walled England about with
Brasse.

Frteb BjLCON reading one day of the many conquests
of England, bethought himselfe how he might keepe it
hereafter from the like conquests, and so make himselfe
famous hereafter to all posterities. This (after great
study) hee found could be no way so well doue as one ;
which was to make a head of brasse, and if he could
make this head to speake (and heare it when it speakes)
then might hee be able to wall all England about with
brasse. To this purpose hee got one Fryer Bungey
to assist him, who was a great sclibUer and a magician,
(but not to bee compared to Fryer Bacon) these two
with great study andpaines so framed ahead of brasse,
that in the inward parts thereof there was all things like
as in a naturall mans head : this being done, they were
as farre from perfection of the worke as they were
before, for they knew not how to give those parts that
they had made motion, without which it was impossible
that it should speake : many bookes they read, but yet
could not finde out any hope of what they sought, that
at the last they concluded to raise a spirit, and to know
of him that which they could not attaine to by their
owne studies. To do this they prepared all things ready
and went one evening to a wood thereby, and after
many ceremonies used, they spake the words of coniura"
tion, which the Devill straight obeyed and appeared

206 THE FAMOUS HISTORY

unto them, asking what they would? know, said Fryer
Bacon that wee have made an artifieiall head of brasse,
which we would have to speake, to the furtherance of
which wee have raised thee, and being raised, we will
here keepe thee, unlesse thou tell to us the way and
manner how to make this head to speake. The Devill
told him that he had not that power of himselfe : be-
ginner of lyes (said Fryer Bacon) I know that thou dost
dissemble, and therefore tell it us quickly, or else wee
will here bind the to remaine during our pleasures. At
these threatnings the Devill consented to doe it, and
told them, that with a continuel fume of the six hotest
simples it should have motion, and in one month space
speak, the Time of the moneth or day hee knew not :
also hee told them, that if they heard it not before it
had done speaking, all their labour should be lost : they
being satisfied, licensed the spirit for to depart.

Then went these two learned fryers home againe, and
prepared the simples ready, and made the fume, and
with continuallwatchingattended whenthisBrasen head
would speake: thus watched they for three weekes
without any rest, so that they were so weary and sleepy,
that they could not any longer refraine from rest : then
called Fryer Bacon his man Miles, and told him, that it
was not unknown to him what paines Fryer Bungy and
himselfe had taken for three weekes space, onely to
make, and to heare the Brasen-head speake, which if
they did not, then had they lost aU their labour, and all
England had a great losse thereby : therefore hee in-

OF PBTEB BjIlOON. 207

treated Miles that he would watch whilst that they
slept, and call them if the head speake. Feare not,
good master (said Miles) I will not sleepe, hut harken
and attend upon the head, and if it doe chance to
speake, I will call you : therefore I pray take you both
your rests and let mee alone for watching this head.
After Fryer Bacon had given him a great charge the
second time : Fryer Bungy and he went to sleepe, and
Miles, alone to watch the brasen head : Miles, to keepe
him from sleeping, got a tabor and pipe, and being
merry disposed, sung this song to a Northren tune :

OP cam'st thou not fbom new-castle.

* To couple is a castome,
all things thereto agree:
Why should not I then love?
since love to all is free.

Bnt lie have one that's pretty,

her cheekes of scarlet die.
For to breed my delight,

when that I ligge her by.

Though vertue be a dowry,

yet lie chuse money store :
If my love prove untrue,

with that I can get more.

The faire is oft unconstant»

the blacke is often proud.
He chuse a lovely browne,

come fidler scrape thy crowd.

208 THE FAMOUS HISTORY

Come fidler scrape thy crowd,
for Peggie the browne is she.

Must be mj Bride, God guide
that Peggie and I agree.

With his owne musicke and such songs as these
spent he his time, and kept from sleeping at last. After
some noyse the head spake these two words, time is.
Miles hearing it to speake no more, thought his master
would be angry if hee waked him for that, and there-
fore he let them both sleepe, and began to mocke the
head in this maimer : Thou brazen- ^Eiced head, hath
my master tooke aU this paines about thee, and now dost
thou requite him with two words, tim& is : had hee
watched with a lawyer as long as he hath watched with
thee, he would have given him more, and better words
then thou hast yet, if thou canst speake no wiser, they
shal sleepe till doomes day for me : time is : I know
time is, and that you shall heare good man Brazen face.

TO THE TUNE OF DJlINTIE COME THOU TO MB.

Time is for some to plant,
Time is for some to sowe;
Time is for some to graft
The home as some doe know.

Time is for some to eate.
Time is for some to sleepe,
Time is for some to laugh,
Time is for some to weepe.

V

OF FBYSB BACOK. 209

Time is for some to sing,
Time is for some to pray.
Time is for some to creepe,
That have dnmke all the day.

Time is to cart a bawd,
Time is to whip a whore,
Time is to hang a theefe,
And time is for much more.

Do you tell us copper-nose, when ttmb is, I hope we
Schollers know our times, when to drinke drunke, when
to kisse our hostes, when to goe on her score, and when
to pay it, that time comes seldome. After halfe an
houre had passed, the head did speake againe,two words,
which were these : time was. Miles respected these
words as little as he did the former, and would not wake
them, but still scoffed at the brazen head, that it had
learned no better words, and have such a tutor as his
master : and in scome of it sung this song.

TO THE TUNB OF A BICH MBBCHANT HAM*.

Hme was when thou a kettle

wert fiU'd with better matter :
But 'Frjer Bacon did thee spoyle,

when he thy sides did batter.

Time was when conscience dwelled

with men of occupation :
Time was when Lawyers did not thrive,

so well by mens vexation.

TOL. I. P

^10 TSE VAMOrs HISTOBT

Time was whoi kings and beggera

of one poore sftnffie had being:
Time was wlien office kept no knayes:

l^t HAke it was worth seeing.

Time was a bowle of water,

did gire the face reflection,
Time waJi when women knew no paint:

which now thej call complexion.

Time ttas t I know that brazen-face, without jour
telling, I know Time was, and I know what things there
was when Time was, and if you speake no wiser, no
master shall be waked for mee. Thus MUes talked and
sung till another halfe houre was gone, then the brazen
head spake again these words ; time is past : and there
with fell downe, and presently followed a terrible noyse,
with strange flashes of fire^ so that Miles was halfe
dead with feare : at this no jse the two Fryers awaked,
and wondred to see the whole roome so full of smoake,
but that being vanished they might perceive the brazen
head broken and lying on the ground : at this sight they
grieved, and called Miles to know how this came. Miles
halfe dead with feare» said that it fell downe of itselfe,
and that with the noyse and fire that followed he was
almost frighted out of his wits : Fryer Bacon asked him
if hee did not speake ? yes (quoth Miles) it spake, but
to no purpose. Be have a parret speake better in that
time that you have been teaching this brazen head.
Out on thee villaine (said Fryer Bacon) thou hast un-

OF FBYEB BXGOK.. 211

done us both, hadat thou but called us when it did
flpeake, all England had been walled round about with
bradse, to its glory, and our eternal fames : what were
the wordes it spake: very few (said Miles) and those were
jione of the wisest that I have heard neither: first he
said, TiHS IS. Hadst thou call*d us then (said Fryer
Bacon) we had been made for ever : then (said Miles)
half an hour after it spake againe and said, tikb was.
And wouldst thou not call us then (said Bungey P)
Alas (said Miles) I thought he would have told me some
long tale, and then I purposed to have called you : then
half an houre afber he cried, time is fast, and made
such a noyse, that hee hath waked you himselfe mee
thinkes. At this lEVyer Bacon was in such a rage that'
hee would have beaten his man, but he was restrained by
Bongey : but neverthelesse for his punishment, he with
his art struck him dumbe for one whole months space.
Thus the greate worke of theseleamed Eryerswas over-
thrown (to their great griefes) by this simple fellow.

How Fryer Bacon by his art took a towne, when the
King had lyen before it three months, without doing
to it any hurt.

Is those times when Fryer Bacon did all his strange
trickes, the Kings of England had a greatpart of France,
which they held a long time, till civill warres at home
in this land made them to lose it : it did chance that the
King of England (for some cause best knowne to him-
selfe) went into France with a great armie, where after

212 THE FAMOUS HISTOBT

many victories, he did beseige a strong towne and lay
before it full three moneths, without doing to the towne
any great damage, but rather received the hurt him-
seUe. This did so vexe the Eling, that he sought to
take it in any way, either by policy or strength : to this
intent hee made proclamation, that whosoever could de-
liver this towne into his hand, hee should have for his
paines ten thousand crownes truely paid. This was
proclaimed, but there was none found that would under-
take it. At length the newes did come into England of
this great reward that was promised. Fryer Bacon
hearing of it, went into France, and being admitted to
the kings presence, hee thus spake unto him : Your
maiestie I am sure hath not quite forgot your poore sub-
ject Bacon, the love that you shewed to mee being
last in your presence, hath drawn mee for to leave tnj
countreyiand my studies, to doe your maiestis service : I
beseech your grace, to command mee so farre as my
poore art or life may doe you pleasure. The king
thanked him for his love, but told him, that hee had
now more need of armes than art, and wanted brave
souldiers more than learned schollers. Fryer Bacon
answered. Your grace saith well ; but let mee (under
correction) tell you, that art oftentimes doth those
things that are impossible to armes, which I will make
good in some few examples. I will speak onely of
things performed by art and nature^ wherein shall be
nothing magical : and first by the figuration of art>
there may be made instruments of navigation without

Of EBYEft BACOK. 213

men to rowe in them, as great ships to brooke the sea,
only with one man to steere them, and they shall sayle
for more swiftly than if they were full of men : also
chariots that shall move with an unspeakable force,
without any living creature to stirre them. Likewise,
an instrument may be made to fly withall, if one sit in
the midst of the instrument, and doe tume an engine,
by which the wings being artificially composed, may beat
ayre after the manner of a flying bird. By an instrument
of three fingers high, and three fingers broad, a man
may rid himself and others firom all imprisonment : yea,
such an instrument may easily be made, whereby a man
may violently draw unto him a thousand men, will they,
nill they, or any other thing. By art also an instrument
may bee made, where with men may walke in the bot-
tome of the sea or rivers without bodily danger : this
Alexander the G-reat used (as the ethnick philosopher
reporteth) to the end he might behold the secrets of the
seas. But physicall figurations are farre more strange:
for by that may be framed perspects and looking-
glasses, that one thing shall appeare to be many, as one
man shall appeare to be a whole army, and one
sunne or moone shall seem divers. Also perspects
may be so framed, that things farre off shall seem most
nigh unto us : with one of these did Julius Csssarfrom
the sea coasts in France marke and observe the situa-
tion of the castles in England. Bodies may also be so
framed that the greatest things shall appeare to be the
least, the highest lowest, the most secret to bee the
most manifest^ and in such like sort the contrary. Thus

214 THE FAMOtrS HISTOBT

did Socrates perceive, that the dragon which did destroy
the dtie and eonntrey adioyning, with his noisome
breath, and contagious influence, did lurkein the dennes
between the mountaines : and thus may all things that
are done in cities or armies be disooTered by the ene^
mies. Againe, in such wise may bodies be framed, that
venomous and infectious influences may be brought
whither a man will : in this did Aristotle instruct Alex-
ander; through which instruction the poyson of a
basiliske, being lift up upon the wall of a dtie, the
poison was convayd into the citie, to the destruction
thereof: abo perspects may be made to deceive the
sight, as to make a man beleeve that hee seeth great
store of riches, when that there is not any. But it ap-
pertaineth to a higher power of figuration, that beams
should be brought and assembled by divers flexions and
reflexions in any distance that we will, to bume any
thing that is opposite unto it, as it is witnessed by those
perspects or glasses that bume before and behinde ;
but the greatest andchiefest of all figurations and things
figured, is to describe the heavenly bodies, according to
their length and breadth in a corporall figure, wherein
they may corporally move with a daily motion. These
things are worth a kingdom to a wise man. These
may suffise, my royall lord, to shew what art can doe :
and these, with many things more, as strange, I am able
by art to performe. Then take no thought for winning
this towne, for by my art you shall (ere many dayesbe
past) have your desire.

or FBYEB BACOK. 215

The king all this while heard him with admiration :
bat hearing him now, that hee would undertake to win
the towne> hee burst out in these speeches: mostleamed
Bacon, doe but what thou hast said, and I will give thee
what thou most desirest, either wealth, or honour,
choose which thou wilt, and I will be as ready to per-
forme, as I have been to promise.

Your malesties love is all that I seeke (said the firyer)
let mee have that, and I have honour enough, for
wealth, I have content, the wise should seek no more :
but to the purpose. Let your pioniers raise up a mount
so high, (or rather higher) than the wall, and then shall
you see some probability of that which I have promised.

This mount in two days was raised : then Fryer
Sacon went with the king to the top of it, and did with
a perspect shew to him the towne, as plainly as if hee
had beene in it : at this the king did wonder, but Eryer
Bacon told him, that he should wonder more, ere next
day noone: agarust which time, he desired him to have
his whole army in readinesse, for to scale the wall upon
a signal given by him, from the mount. This the king
promised to doe, and so returned to his tent full of joy,
that he should gain this strong towne. In the morning
Fryer Bacon went up to the mount and set his glasses,
and other instruments up : in the meane time the king
ordered his army, and stood in a readinesse for to give
the assaults : when the signal was given, which was the
waving of a flagge : ere nine of the clocke Fryer Bacon
had burnt the state-house of the towne, with other

216 THX FAMOUS HISTOBT

bouses onlj by bis matbematicall glasses, wbicb made
tbe wbole towne in an uprore, for none did know bow it
came : whilest tbat tbey were quencbing of tbe same
Eryer Bacon did wave bis flagge : upon wbicb signall
given, tbe king set upon tbe towne, and tooke it witb
little or no resistance. Tbus tbrougb tbe art of tbis
le^ed man tbe king got tbis strong towne, wbicb bee
could not doe witb all bis men witbout Fryer Bacons
belpe.

How Fryer Bacon over-came tbe German coniurer Van-
dermast, and made a spirit of bis owne carry bim
into Germany.

The king of England after bee bad taken tbe town
sbewed great mercy to tbe inbabitants^ giving some of
tbem tbeir lives freely, and otbers be set at liberty for
tbeir gold : tbe towne bee kept at bis owne, and swore
tbe cbiefe citizens to be bis true subiects. Presently
after tbe king of France sent an ambassadour to tbe
king of England for to intreat a peace betweene tbem.
Tbis ambassadour being come to tbe king, be feasted
bim (as it is tbe manner of princes to doe) and witb tbe
best sports as be bad tben, welcomed bim. Tbe ambas-
sadour seeing tbe king of England so free in bis love,
desired likewise to give bim some taste of bis good
liking, and to tbat intent sent for one of bis fellowes
(being a Germane, and named Yandermast) a famous
coniurer, wbo being come, bee told tbe king, tbat since
his grace bad been so bountiful in bis love to bim> be

OT 7BTBB BACOK. 217

would shew him (by a seirant of his) such wonderfull
things that his grace had never seene the like before.
The king demanded of him of what nature those things
were that hee would doe : the ambassadour answered
that they were things done by the art of magicke. The
king hearing of this, sent straight for Fryer Bacon, who
presently came, and brought Fryer Bungey with him/

When the banquet was done, Yandermast did aske
the king, if he desired to see the spirit of any man de-
ceased : and if that hee did, hee would raise him in such
manner and fashion as he was in when that he lived.
The king told him, that above all men he desired to see
Fompey the Great, who could abide no equall. Yander-
mast by his art raised him, armed in such manner as hee
was when he was slaine at the battell of Fharsalia ; at
this they were all highly contented. Fryer Bacon pre-
sently raised the ghost of lulius Cffisar, who could abide
no superiour, and had slaine this Fompey at the battell
of Fharsalia : at the sight of him they were all amazed,
but the king who sent for Bacon : and Yandermast said
that there was some man of art in that presence, whom
he desired to see. Fryer Bacon then shewed himselfe,
saying ; it was I Yandermast, that raised Caesar, partly
to give content to this royall presence, but chiefely for
to conquer thy Fompey, as he did once before, at that
great battell of Fharsalia, which he now againe shaU
doe. Then presently began a fight between CsBsar and
Fompey, which continued a good space, to the content
of all, except Yandermast. At last Fompey was over-

218 THE TAHOVS HI8T0BT

eome and slaine by CaBsar : then vanished they both
away.

My lord amfoassadour (said the king) me thinks that
my Englishman has put down your Gherman : hath he no
better cunning than this ? Yes, answered Yandermast,
your grace shall see me put downe your Englishman
ere that you goe from hence ; and therefore Eryer pre-
pare thy selfe with thy best of arfc to withstand me.
Alas, said Fryer Bacon, it is a little thing will serve to
resist thee in this kind. I have here one that is my in^
ferior (shewing him Fryer Bungey) try thy art with him ;
and if thou doe put him to the worst, then will I deale
with thee, and not till then.

Fryer Bungey then began to shew his art : dud after
some turning and looking in his booke, he brought up
among them the HysperianTree, which did beare golden
apples : these apples were kept by a waking dragon,
that lay under the tree : He having done this, bid Yan-
dermast finde one that durst gather the fruit. Then
Yandermast did raise the ghost of Hercules in his habit
that he wore when that he was living, and with his dub
on his shoulder : Here is one, said Yandermast, that
shall gather fruit from this tree : this is Hercules, that
in his life time gathered of this fruit, and made the
dragon crouch : and now againe shall hee gather it in
spight of all opposition. Ajs Hercules was going to
plucke the fruit, Fryer Bacon held up his wand, at which
Hercules stayed and seemed fearful. Yandermast bid
him for to gather of the fruit, or else he would torment

07 irSTEB li±CO^. 219

him. Hercules was m<»*e fearfull, aad Bsii, I cannot,
nor t dare not : for great Bacon stands, whose charms
are farre more powerMl than thine, I must obey him
Yandermast. Hereat Yandermast curst Hercules, and
threatned him : But Yryer Bacon laughed, and bid not
to chafe himself ere that his journey was ended : for
seeing (said he) that Hercules will doe nothing at your
command, I will have him doe you some service at
mine : with that he bid Hercules carry him home into
Germany. The DeviU obeyed him, and tooke Yander-
mast on his backe, and went away with him in all their
sights. Hold Fryer, cried the ambassadour, I will not
loose Yandermast for half my land. Content yourself
my lord, answered Fryer Bacon, I have but sent him
home to see his wife, and ere long he may retume. The
king of England thanked Fryer Bacon, and forced some
gifts on him for his service that he had done for him :
for Fryer Bacon did so little respect money, that he
never would take any of the king.

How Fryer Bacon through his wisdom saved the en-
dangered lives of three Brethren.

The peace being concluded betweene the Xing of Eng-
land and the King of France, the King of England
came againe into his country of England, where he was
received very ioyf ully of all his subjects : But in his ab-
sence had happened a discord betweene three brethren,
the like hath not beene often heard. This it was : A
rich gentleman of England dyed, and left behind him

220. THE FAMOUS HISTOBT

three sonnes. I^ow for some reason (which was best
known to himselfe) he appointed none of them by name
to be his heyre, but spake to them all after this manner :
You are all my sonnes, and I love you all as a father
should doe, all alike, not one better than the other : and
cause I would alwayes doe rightly so neere as I can,
I leave all my lands and goods to him that loves me
best: These were his last words that he spake con-
cerning any worldly affaires.

After he was dead and buried, there arose a great
controversie betwixt them, who should inherit their
fathers goods and lands, every one pleading for himselfe,
how that he loved his father best. AU the cunning
lawyers of the kingdome could say nothing to the
purpose, concerning this case, so that they were inforced
to begge of the king a grant for a combat : for they
would not share the lands and goods among them, but
every one desired all or else nothing. The king seeing
no .other way to end this controversie, granted a combat :
the two eldest being to fight first, and the conquerour to
fight with the youngest, and the surviver of them was to
have the land.

The day being come that was set for these com-
batants, they all came in armed for the fight. Eriar
Bacon being there present, and seeing such three lustie
young men like to perish, and that by their owne flesh
and bloode, grieved very much, and went to the king
desiring his maiestie that he would stay the fight, and
he would finde a meanes without any bloodshed to end

OP rETBB BACOK. 221

the matter : the king was veryglad hereof, and caused the
combatants to be brought before him, to whom he said :
gentlemen, to save the blood of you all, I have found a
way, and yet the controversie shall be ended that is now
amongst you : Are you contented to stand to his iudg-
ment that I shall appoint : they all answered, that they
were. Then were they bid to retume three days after.
In that time Fryer Bacon had caused the body of their
deceased father to be taken out of the ground, and
brought to the court : the body hee did cause to be
bound to a stake, naked to the middle upwards and
likewise prepared three bowes and shafts for the three
brethren : all these kept hee secretly.

The third day being come, came these three brethren,
to whom !Pryer Bacon in the presence of the king gave
the three bowes and shafts, saying, be not offended at
what I have done, there is no other way but this to judge
your cause : See here is the body of your dead father,
shoot at him, for he that cometh nearest to his heart,
shall have all the lands and goods.

The two eldestprepared themselves, and shot at him,
and stucke their arrowes in his breast. Then bid they
the youngest to shoot : but he reftised it, saying, I will
rather loose all, then wound that body that I so loved
living : Had you ever had buthalfe that love (in you) to
him that I have, you would rather have had your own
bodies mangled, than to suffer his lifelesse corps thus to
be used ; nay, you doe not onely suffer it, but you are
the actors of this act of shame : and speaking this, he
wept.

222 THE FAMOUS HISTOBT

Fryer Bacon seeing this, did give the iudgement on
his side, for be loved his father best, and therefore had
all his lands and goods : the other two brothers went
away with shame for what they had done. This deed of
Fryer Bacons was highly commended of all men : for he
did not onely give true judgement, but also saved much
blood that would have beene shed, had they beene
suffered to have fought.

How Fryer Bacon served the Theeves that robbed him,
and of the sport that his man Miles had with them.

It was reported about the countrey how that the king
had given Fryer Bacon great store of treasure. The
report of this wealth made three theeves plot to rob
Fryer Bacons house, which they put in practise one
evening in this fashion. They knockt at the doore and
were let in by Miles : No sooner were they in, but they
took hold of him, and led him into the house, and find-
ing Fryer Bacon there, they told him that they came for
some money, which they must and would have ere they
departed from thence. He told them, that he was but
ill stored with money at that time, and therefore desired
them to forbeare him till some other time. They an-
swered him againe, that they knew that hee had enough,
and therefore it was but folly to delay them, but straight
let them have it by faire means, or else they would use
that extremitie to him that hee wouldbee loth to suffer.
Hee seeing them so resolute, told them that they should
have all that hee had, and gave to them one hundred
pounds a man. Herewith they seemed content^ and

OF 7SYEB BACON. 223*

would have gone their wayes. Nay, said Fryer Bacon,
I pray gentlemen at my request tarry a little, and heare.
some of my mans musicke : you are byred reasonable
well already, I hope in courtesie you will not deny mee
80 small a request. That will wee not, (said they all.)
Miles thought now to have some sport with them,
which hee had, and therefore plaid lustily on his tabor
and pipe : . so soone as they heard him play (against
their wills) they feU a dauncing, and that after such a
laborious manner^ that they quickly wearied themselves
(for they had aU that while the bagges of money in
j their hands.) Tet had Fryer Eacon not revenge enough

of them, but bid his man Miles leave them some larger
I measure as hee thought fitting, which Miles did. Miles

f straight ledde them out of the house into the fields,

I they followed him, dauncing after a wilde anticke man-

ner : then led hee them over a broad dike full of water
and they foUowed him still, but not so good a way as he
went (for he went over the bridge, but they by reason
of their dauncing, could not keepe the bridge, but fell
off, and dauncing through the water) then led hee them
through a way where a horse might very well have been
up to the beUy : they followed him, and were so durtie,
as though they had wallowed in the myre like swine :
sometime gave hee them rest onely to laugh at them :
I then were they so sleepie when hee did not play, that

they feU to the ground. Then on a sudden would hee
play againe, and make them start up and follow him.
Thus kept hee them the better part of the night. At

•1

I

I

224 THE rAHOVS HISTOBY

■

last hee in pittie left playing, and let them rest. They
being asleepe on the bare ground he tooke their money
from them, and gave them this song for their farewell,
to the tune of« *' Oh doe me no harme good man.*'

Ton roaring boyes, and sturdy theeyes,
yon pimpes, and ^les squires :

Lament the case of these poor knayes,
and warme them by your fires.

They snorting lye like hogs in stie,

but hardly are so warme :
If all that cheat, such hap should meet,

to true men 'twere no harme.

They money had, which made them glad,

their ioy did not indure :
Were all theeyes sery'd as these haye beene,

I thinke there would bee fewer.

When that they wake, their hearts will ake,

to thinke upon their losse :
And though the gallows they escape,

they goe by weeping crosse.

Tour trulls expect your comming home
with full and heayy purse :

When that they see tis nothing so,
oh how the/le rayle and curse.

O^ TATEB BACON. 225

i

For hee tkat loves to keepe a whore,

must have a giving hand.
Which makes a many knaves be choakt,

for bidding true men stand.

They were scarce any thing the better for this song>
for they slept all the while : so Miles left them at their
rest : but they had small cause to sleepe so soundly as
they did, for they were more wett than ere was scold
with cucking. Miles gave his master his money againe,
and told the story of their merry pilgrimage: he laughed
at it, and wisht all men had the like power to serve all
such knaves in the like kind. The theeves waking in the
morning and missing their money, and seeing themselves
in that plight, thought that they had been served so by
some divine power, for robbing a church-man, and
therefore they swore one to the other, never to meddle
with any churchman againe.

How Yandermast, for the disgrace that he had received
by Fryer Bacon sent a souldier to kill him ; and how
Fryer Bacibn escaped killing, and turned the souldier
from an Atheist to be a good Christian.

Ebydb Bacok sitting one day in his study, looked over
all the dangers that were to happen to him that moneth,
iki^re found he, that in the second week of the moneth
between sunne ridng and setting, there was a great
danger to fall on him, which would without great care
of prevention take away his life. This danger which he
VOL. I. q

226 THE VAMOTJS HISTOBT

did foresee, was caused hj the Germane eoniurer Yan*
dermast, for he vowed a reveDge for the disgrace that he
had received. To execute the same, hee hjred a Walloon
souldier, and gave him one hundred crownes to do the
same, fifty beforehand, and fifty when hee had killed
him.

Pryer Bacon, to save himselfe from this danger that
was like to happen to him would alwayes when that he
readt hold a ball of brasse in his hand, and under that
ball would hee set a bason of brasse, that if hee did
chance to sleepe in his reading, the fall of the ball out
of his hand into the bason, might wake him. Being one
day in his study in this manner, and asleepe,the Walloon
Bouldier was got in to him, and had drawnehis sword to
kill him : but as hee was ready for to strike, downe fell
the ball out of Pryer Bacon's hand, and waked him*
Hee seeing the souldier stand therewith asworddrawne,
asked him what hee was ? and wherefore hee came there
in that manner ? The souldier boldly answered him
thus : I am a Walloon, and a souldier, and more then
this, a villaine : I am come hither, because I was sent ;
I was sent, because t was hyred : I was hyred, because I
durst do it : the thing I should doe, is not done : the
thing to be done, is to kill thee : thus have you heard
what I am and why I came. Pryer Bacon wonderedat
this man's resolution ; then asked hee of him, who set
him on worke to bee a murderer P Hee boldly told him,
Yandermast the Grermane eoniurer : Fryer Bacpn then
asked him what religion he was of P He answered, of

OF FAYEB BAOOK. 227

that which many doe professe, the chief principles of
which were these : to goe to an ale-house, and to a
church with one devotion, to absteine from evil for want
of action, and to doe good against their wills. It is a
good profession for a devil (said Fryer Bacon.) Doest
thou believe hell ? I believe no such thing, answered
the souldier. Then will I shew thee the contrary, said
the Fryer : and presently raised the ghost of lulian the
Apostate, who came up with his body burning, and so
full of wounds, that it almost did affright the souldier
out of his vnts. Then Bacon did command this spirit
to speake, and to shew what hee was, and wherefore hee
was thus tormented? Then spake hee to it in this man<-
ner : I sometimes was a Boman Emperour : some count
greatnesse a happinesse: I had happinesse beyond my
empire, had I kept that, I hadbeene a happy man: would
I had lost my empire when I lost that. I was a Chris^
tian, that was my happiness; but my selfe love and pride
made me to fall from it ; for which I now am punished
vdth never ceasing torments, which I must stiU endure :
the like which I enioy is now prepared for unbeleeving
wretches like myself, so vanished he away.

All this while the souldier stood quaking, and sweat
as he had felt the torments himselfe ; and falling downe
on his knees desired Fryer Bacon to instruct him in a
better course of life, then he had yet gone in. Fryer
Bacon told,him,that he should not want his helpe in any
thing, which he performed, instructing him better : then
gave he him money, and sent him to the warres of the
holy land, where he was slain.

228 THE FAMOUS HISTORY

How Fryer Bacon deceived an old Usurer.

Not farre from Eryer Bacon, dwelt an olde man that
had great store of monej which hee let out to use, and
would never doe any good with it to the poore, though
Pryer Bacon had often put him in minde of it, and
wished him to do some good whilest he lived. Fryer
Bacon seeing this, by his art made an iron pot, which
seemed full of gold, this being done, he went to this rich
usurer, and told him, that he had some gold which he
had gathered in his time that he had lived ; but it being
much in quantity, hee feared that if it were knowne, it
would be taken from him, because it was unfitting a man
of his coat should have so much : now he desired him
that hee would let him have some hundred pounds,
which was not the sixth part of his gold, and he should
kepe it for him. The usurer was glad to heare of this,
and told him that he should have it, and that he would
keep his gold as safe as he himself would : Fryer Bacon
was glad to heare of this, and presently fetcht the pot :
at the sight of which the usurer laughed, and thought
to himself, how all that gold was his owne, for hee had
a determination to gull thefryer, but he gulled himselfe.
See here is the gold (said Fryer Bacon) now let me have
of you one hundred pounds, and keep you this gold till
I pay it backe again. Very willingly (said the usurer)
and told him one hundred pounds out, which Fryer
Bacon tooke and delivered him the note, and so went
his way. This mony did Fryer Bacon give to divers
poore schollers, and other people and bid them pray for

OF FBY£B BACON. 229

old Good-gatberers soules health (so was this usurer
caird) which these poor people did, and would give him
thankes and prayers when they met him, which he did
wonder at, for he never deserved the praires of any man.
At last this old Good-gatherer went to looke on this pot
of gold, but instead of gold he found nothing but earth,
at which sight he would have died, had not his other
gold hindred him, which bee was to leave behind him :
BO gathering up his spirits, bee went to Fryer Bacon,
and told him he was abused and cheated ; for which he
would have the law of him, unlesse he made him resti-
tution. Fryer Bacon told him, that he had not cheated
him, but bin his faithful steward to the poore, which he
could not chuse but know, either by their prayers, or
their thanks ; and as for the law he feared it not, but bid
him doe his worst. The old man seeing Fryer Bacons
resolution, went his way, and said, that hereafter hee
would be his owne steward.

How Miles, Fryer Bacons man didconiure for meat, and
got meate for himselfe and his hoast.

Miles chanced one day upon some businesse, to goe
some six miles from home, and being loth to part with
some company that he had, he was be-lated, and could
get but halfe way home that night ; to save his purse hee
went to ones house that was his masters acquaintance :
but when he came, the good man of the house was not
at home, and the woman would not let him have lodging.
Miles seeing such cold entertainment wished he had not

230 THE FAMOUS HISTOBT

troubled her, but being now there, he was loth to goe
any further and therefore with good words he perswaded
her for to give him lodging that night. She told him
that she would willingly doe it, if her husband were at
home, but he being now out of towne, it would be to
her discredit to lodge any man. You neede not mistrust
me, (said Miles) for I have no thought to attempt your
chastitie : locke me in any place where there is a bed,
and I willnot trouble you till to m orrow that I rise . She
thinking her husband would be angry if she should
deny any of his friends so small a request, consented
that he should lye there, if that he would be locked up :
Miles was contented and presently went to bed, and she
locked him into the chamber where he lay.

Long had not he beene a bed, but he heard the
doore open ; with that he rose and peeped through a
chinke of the partition, and saw an old man come in :
this man set down his basket that he had on his arme,
and gave the woman of the house three or four sweet
kisses, which made Miles his mouth runne with water
to see it: then did hee undoe his basket, and puUed out
of it a fat capon ready roasted, and bread, with a bottle
of good olde sacke ; this gave hee unto her, saying ;
sweetheart, hearing thy husband was out of towne, I
thought good to visite thee, I am not come emptie
handed, but have brought some thing to be merrie
withal : lay the clothe sweete hony, and let us first to
banquet, and then to bed. She kindly thanked him, and
presently did as he bad her : they were not scarce set at

J

OF 7BYXB BAC017. 231

the table, but her husband returning backe, knockt at
the doore. The woman hearing this was amazed, and
knew not what to doe with her old lover : but looking
on her apron strings, she straight found (as women use
to doe) a trick to put herself free from this feare ; for
shee put her lover under the bed, the capon and bread
she put under a tub, the bottle of wine shee put behinde
the chest, and then she did open the doore, and with a
dissembling kisse welcomed her husband home, asking
him the reason why that he returned so quickly. He
told her, that hee had forgot the money that he should
have carried with him, but on the morrow betimes hee
would be gone. Miles saw and heard all this : and
having a desire to taste of the capon and the wine, called
the goodman. He asked his wife who that was ? She
told him, an acquaintance of his, that intreated lodging
there that night. He bid her open the door, which she
did, and let Miles out. Hee seeing Miles there, bid
him welcome, and bade his wife to set them some meate
on the table : she told him that there was not any ready,
but prayed him to kepe his stomacke till morrow, and
then she would provide them a good breakefast. Since
it is so Miles (said the goodman) wee must rest con-
tented, and sleepe out our hunger. Nay stay said Miles,
if that you can eate, I can find you good meat ; I am a
schoUer, and have some art. I would faine see it (said
the goodman) You shall quoth Miles, and that presently.
With that Miles pulled forth a booke out of his bosome,
and began his coniuration in this fashion :

232 THB FAMOUS HISTOBT

From the fearefuU lake below.
From whence spirits come and goe;
Straightway come one and attend
Fryer Baccxifl man, and friend.

Gomes there none yet, quoth Miles ? then I must use
some other charme.

Kow the owle is flowne abroad,
For I heare the croaking toade,
And the bat that shuns the day.
Through the darke doth make her way.
Now the ghosts of men doe rise,
And with fearful hideous cryes,
Seeke revengement (from the good)
On their heads that spilt their blood.
Come some spirit, quicke I say.
Night's the Devils holy-day:
Where ere you be, in dennes, or lake.
In the ivy, ewe, or brake:
Quickly come and me attend.
That am Bacons man and friend.
But I will have you take no shape
Of a bear a horse, or ape:
Nor will I have you terrible.
And therefore come invisible.

Kow is he come, (quoth Miles) and therefore tell me
what meat you will have mine hoast ? Any thing Miles,
(said the goodeman) what thou wilt. Why then (said
Miles) what say you to a capon P I love it above all

OV FBTEB BACOir. 233

meat (said the goodman.) Why then a capon you shall
have, and that a good one too. Bemo my spirit that^I
have raised to doe mee service, I charge thee, seeke and
search about the earth, and bring me hither straight the
best of capons ready roasted. Then stood hee still a
little, as though he had attended the comming of his
spirit, and on the sudden said : It is well done, my Eemo,
hee hath brought me (mine hoast,) a fat capon from the
King of Tripolis owne table, and bread with it. Aye
but where is it Miles (said the hoast) I see neither
spirit nor capon. Looke under the tub (quoth Miles)
and there you shall finde it. He presently did, and
brought (to his wives griefe) the capon and bread out.
Stay (quoth Miles) we do yet want some drinke that is
comfortable and good ; I think mine hoast a bottle of
Maliga sacke were not amisse, I will have it : Bemo, ,
haste thee to Maliga, and fetch me from the governours
a bottle of his best sacke. The poore woman thought
that hee would have betrayed her and her lover, and
therefore wished that he had beene hanged, when that
hee came first into her house. Hee having stood a little
while, as before, saide. Well done, Bemo, looke behinde
the great chest (mine hoast) Hee did so, and brought
out the bottle of sacke. Now (quoth hee) Miles sit
downe, and welcome to thine owne cheere : Tou may
see wife (quoth he) what a man of art can doe, get a
fatte capon, and a bottle of good sacke in a quarter of
an houre, and for nothing, which is best of all : Come
(good wife) sit downe, and bee merry ; for all this is
paid for, I thanke Miles.

23Ji THE FAMOUS HISTOBY

Sfaee sate, but could not eat a bit for anger, but
wished that every bit they did eate might choake them :
Her old lover too that lay under the bed all this while
was ready to bepisse himselfe for feare, for hee still
looked when that Miles would discover him. When
they had eaten and drunke well, the good man desired
Miles that hee would let him see the spirit that fetched
them this good cheere : Miles seemed unwilling, telling
him that it was against the laws of art, to let an illite-
rate man see a spirit, but yet, for once hee would let
him see it : and told him withall, that hee must open
the door, and soundly beat the spirit, or else hee should
bee troubled hereafter with it : and because he should
not feare it, hee would put it in the shape of some one
of his neighbours. The good man told him, that hee
neede not to doubt his valour, he would beat him
soundly, and to that purpose hee took a good cudgell in
his hand, and did stande ready for him. Miles then
went to the bed side, under which the old man lay, and
began to coniure him with these words,

Bemo quickly come, appeare,
Like an old man that dwells neere;
Quickly rise, and in his shape,
From this house make thy escape;
Quickly rise, or else I sweare,
lie put thee in aworser feare.

The old man seeing no remedy, but that hee must
needes come forth, put a good face on it, and rose from
under the bed : behold my spirit (quoth Miles) that

OF FBYEB BAOOir. 235

brought me all that you have had ; now bee as good as
your word and swaddle him soundly. I protest (said
the goodman) your Devill is as like Goodman Stumpe
the tooth-drawer, as a pomewater is like an apple : is it
possible that your spirits can take other mens shapes :
He teach this to keepe his owne shape ; with that hee
beat the old man soundly, so that Miles was faine to
take him off, and put the old man out of doore, so after
some laughing, to bed they all went : but the woman
could not sleepe for griefe, that her old lover had had
such bad usage fbr her sake.

How Fryer Bacon did helpe a young man to his Sweet-
heart, which Fryer Bungye would have married to
another ; and of the mirth that was at the wedding.

As" Oxfordshire gentleman had long time loved a faire
mayde, called Millisant; this love of his was as kindly re-
ceived of her, as it was freely given of him, so that there
wanted nothing to the finishing of their ioyes, but the
consent of her father, who would not grant that she
should bee his wife (though formerly he had been a
meanes to further the match) by reason there was a
knight that was a suitor to her, and did desire that hee
might have her to his wife : but this knight could never
get from her the least token of good wil : so surely was
her love fixed upon the gentleman. This knight seeing
himselfe thus despised, went to Fryer Bungye, and told
him his mind, and did promise him a good piece of

236 THE FAHOITS HISTOEY

money if he could get her for him, either by his art, or
counsell.

Bungye (being covetous) told him, that there was no
better way in his mind, than to get her with her father
to go take the air in a coach : and if hee could doe so,
he would by his art so direct the horses, that they should
come to an old chappell, where hee would attend, and
there they might secretly be married. The knight re-
warded him for his counseU, and told him, that if it tooke
effect, he would be more bountiful! unto him, and pre-
sently went to her father, and told him of this. Hee
liked well of it, and forced the poore maid to ride with
them. So soone as they were in the coach, the horses
ran presently to the chappell, where they found Fryer
Bungye attending for them : at the sight of the church
and the priest, the poore maid knew that she was betraid,
so that for griefe shee fell in a swound : to see which her
father and the knight, were very much grieved, and used
their best skill for her recovery.

In this time, her best beloved, the gentleman, did
come to her fathers to visit her, but finding her not
there, and hearing that shee was gone with her father
and the knight, he mistrusted some foul play : and in all
hast went to Fryer Bacon, and desired of him some help
to recover his love againe, whom he feared was utterly
lost.

Fryer Bacon (knowing him for a vertuous gentleman)
pittyed him; and to give his griefes some release, shewed
him a glasse, wherein any one might see any thing done

OF PRTEE BACOW. 237

(within fifty miles space) that they desired : so soone as
he looked in the glasse, hee saw his love MiUisant with
her father, and the knight, ready to be married by Fryer
Bnngye : at the sight of this hee cryed out that he was
undone, for now should he lose his life in losing of his.
love. Fryer Bacon bids him take comfort, for he would
prevent the marriage ; so taking this gentleman in his
armes, he set himselfe downe in an enchanted chaire,
and suddenly they were carried through the ayre to the
chappell. Just as they cama in, Fryer Bungye was
ioyning their hands to marry them : but Fryer Bacon
spoyled his speech, for he strucke him dumbe, so that
he could not speake a worde. Then raised he a myst in
the chappell, so that neither the father could see his
daughter, nor the daughter her father, nor the knight
either of them. Then tooke he Millisant by the hand,
and led her to the man she most desired: they both wept
for ioy, that they so happily once more had met, and
kindly thanked Fryer Bacon.

It greatly pleased Fryer Bacon to see the passion of
these two lovers, and seeing them both contented, he
marryed them at the chappell doore, whilest her father,
the knight, and Fryer Bungye went groping within, and
could not find the way out. Now when he had married
them, he bid them get lodging at the next village, and
he would send his man with money : (for the gentleman
was not stored, and he had a great way to his house)
they did as he bad them. That night hee sent his man
Miles with money to them ; but he kept her father, the

238 THB FAMOUS HISTOHY

knight, and Fryer Bungey till the next day at noon in
the chappell, ere he released them.

The gentleman and his new married wife made that
night a great supper for ioy of their marriage, and bid
to it most of the village : they wanted nothing but
musicke, for which they made great moane. This want.
Fryer Bacon (though he was absent) supplied: for after
supper there came such a maske, that the like was never
scene in that village: for first, there was heard most
sweet still musicke, theji wind musicke: then came
three apes, and three monkeys, each of them carrying a
torch: after them followed sixe apes and monkeys
more> all dressed in anticke coats : these last sixe fell a
dancing in such an odde manner, that they moved aU.
Dhe beholders to much laughter : so after divers antick
changes, they did reverence to the bridegroome and
bride, and so departed in order as they came in. They
all did marvell from whence these should come: but the
bridegroome knew that it was Fryer Bacons art that
gave them this grace to their weddiug. When all was
done, to bed they went, and enioyed their wishes. The
next daye he went home to his owne house with his
bride : and for the cost he had bestowed on them, most
part of the towiies-folke brought them on their way.

Miles made one amongst them too ; he for his masters
sake was so plyed with cups, that he in three dayes was
scarce sober! for his welcome, at his departure he
gave them this song : to the tune of, *' I have been a
fiddler," Ac.

OF FBYEB BACOK. 239

And did not you heare of a mirth that befell,

the morrow after a wedding day:
At carrying a bride at home to dwell,

and away to Twiver, away, away!

The Quintin was set, and the garlands were made,
'tis a pity old custome should eyer decay:

And woe be to him that was horst on a iade,
for he carried no credit away, away.

We met a consort of fiddle-de-dees,

we set them a, cock-horse, and made them to play,
The winning of Bullen, and Upsie-frees,

and away to Twiver, away, away.

There was ne'er a lad in all the parish,

that would goe to the plow that day:
But on his fore-horse his wench he carries,

and away to Twiyer, away, away.

The butler was quicke, and the ale he did tap,
the maidens did make the chamber full gay :

The serying-men gaye me a fuddling cap,
and I did carye it away, away.

The smithe of the towne his liquor so tooke,
that he was perswaded the ground look'd blue,

And I dare boldly to sweare on a booke,
such smiths as he there are but a few.

A posset was made, and the women did sip,
and simpering said they could eate no more:

Full many a maid was laid on the lip :
Be say no more, but so giye o're.

240 THE FAMOtrs HISTORY

They kindly thanked Miles for his song, and so sent
him home with a foxe at his tayle. His master asked
him, where he had beene so long P He told him at the
wedding. I know it, (said Fryer Bacon) that thou hast
beene there, and I know also (thou beast) that thou hast
beene every day drunke. That is the worst that you
can say by me, master, for still poore men must be
drunke, if that they take a cup more than ordinary ; but
it is not so with the rich. "Why how is it with the rich
then ? I will tell you (said Miles) in few words,

Lawyers fhey are sicke,
And Fryers are ill at ease;
But poore men they are dronke,
And all is one disease.

Well sirrah (said Fryer Bacon) let me not heare that
you are infected any more with this disease, lest I give
you sowre sawce to your sweet meat. Thus did Fryer
Bacon helpe these poore lovers, who in short time got
the love of the old man, and lived in great ioy : Fryer
Bungey's tongue was againe let loose, and all were
friends.

How Vandermast and Fryer Bungye met, and how they
strived who should excelone another in their coniura>
tions ; and of their deaths.

Vandermast thinkingthatFryerBaconhadbeene dead,
cameinto England, andin Kent met with Fryer Bungey :

OF FBYEB BACON. 241

he owing him no good will for Pryer Bacons sake, toolg
his horse out of the stable, and instead of it, left a spirit
like unto it. Eryer Bungye in the morning rose, and
mounting this spirit, (which he thought had beene his
horse) rode on his iourney : but he riding through a
water, was left in the midst of it by this spirit ; and
being thus wet, hee returned to his inne. At the inne
doore, Yandermast met him, and asked him, if that were
swimming time of the year? Bungye told him, if that he
had been so well horsed as he was, when Fryer Bacon
sent him into Germany, he might have escaped that
washing. At this Vandermast bit his lip, and said no
more, but went in. Bungye thought that he would be
even with him, which was in this manner. Vandermast
loved a wench well, which was in the house, and
sought many times to winne her for gold, love, or pro-
mises. Bungye knowing this, did shape a spirit like
this wench, which he sent to Vandermas t . Vandermast
appointed the spirit (thinking it had beene the wench) to
come to his chamber that night, and was very ioyful that
he should enioy her now at the last: but his ioy turned
into sorrow, and his wanton hopes into a bad nights
lodging : for Fryer Bungye had by his art spread such a
sheet on his bed, that no sooner was he laid with the
spirit on it, but it was carryed through the ayre, and let
fall into a deepe pond, where Vandermast had been
drowned, if he had not had the art of swimming : He
got quickly out of the pond, and shaked himselfe like a
rough water-spaniel ; but being out, he was as much

TOL. I. B

242 THE TAMOUS HI8TOSY

4^exed as before, for he could not tell the way home, but
was glad to keepe himselfe in heat that night with
walking. Next day he coming to his inne, Fryer
Bungye asked him how he did like his wench ? he said,
80 well, that he wished him such another. Bungye told
him, that his order did forbid him the use of any, and
therefore he might keepe them for his friends : Thus did
they continually veze each other, both in words, and iU
actions. Yandermast desiring to do Fryer Bungey a
mischiefe, did challenge him to the field (not to fight at
sword and dagger, single rapier, or case of poinyards,
but at worser weapons farre, it was at that diabolical
art of magicke) there to shew which of them was most
cunning, or had most power over the Devill : Bungye
accepted of his challenge, and both provided themselves
of things belonging to the art, and to the field they
went.

There they both spred their circles some hundred
foot from one another : and after some other ceremonies
did Yandermast begin : hee by his charmes did raise up
a fiery dragon, which did runne about Fryer Bungyes
circle, and did scorch him with his heat so that he was
almost ready to melt. Fryer Bungye tormented Yan-
dermast in another element : for he raised up the sea-
monster that Perseus killed, when he did redeem the
faire Andromeda. This sea-monster did run about Yan-
dermast, and such flouds of water did he send out of his
wide mouth, that Yandermast was almost drowned.
Then did Fryer Bungye raise a spirit up like saint

OF PETEE BACON. 243

George, wlio fought with the dragon, and killed it :
Vandermast (following his example) raysed up.PerBeus,
who fought also with his sea-monster, and killed it, so
were they both released from their danger.

They being not contented with this tryall of their
skill, went further in their eoniurations, and raised up
two spirits, each of them one. Bungye charged his
spirit for to assist him with the greatest power hee had,
that by it he might be able to overcome Vandermast.
The Devill told him he would, if that he from his left
arme would give him but three drops of blood ; but if
that he did deny him that, then should Yandermast
have power over him to doe what he would : the like
told Vandermasts Devill to him : to this demand of the
spirits, they both agreed, thinking for to overcome each
other ; but the Devill overthrew them both.

They having given the Devill this bloud, as is before
spoken of, they both fell againe to their eoniurations :
first, Bungye did rayse Achilles with his Greekes,
who marched about Vandermast and threatned him.
Then Vandermast raised Hector with his Troians, who
defended him from AchiUes and the Greekes. Then
began there a great batteU between the Greekes and
Troians, which continued a good space: at last Hector
was slaine, and the Troians fled. Then did follow a
great tempest, with thundring and lightning, so that
the two coniurers wished that they had been away. But
wishes were in vaine : for now the time was come, that
the Devill would be paid for the knowledge that he had

244i THE FAMOUS HISTOBY

lent them, he would not tarry any longer, but then
tooke them in the height of their wickednesse, and
bereft them of their lives.

When the tempest was ended, (which did greatly
affright the towues there by) the townesmen found the
bodies of these two men, (Yandermast and Bungey)
breathlesse, and strangely burnt with fire. The one had
Christian buriall, because of his order sake : the other,
because he was a stranger. Thus was the end of these
two famous coniurers.

How Miles would coniure for money, and how he broke

his legge for feare.

Miles one day finding his Masters study open, stole
out of it one of his coniuring-bookes : with this booke
would Miles needes coniure for some money : (for he
saw that his master had money enough, and he desired
the like, which did make him bold to trouble one of his
masters devils :) in a private place he thought it best to
doe it : therefore he went up to the top of the house,
and there began to reade : long had he not read, but a
devill came to him in an ugly shape, and asked him
what he would have P Miles being affrighted, could not
speake, but stood quaking there like an aspin leafe :
the devill seeing him so, (to increase his feare) raised
a tempest, and hurled fire about, which made Miles
leape from ofF the leades, and with his fall broke his
legge.

OF FSTEE BACON. 245

Pryer Bacon hearing this noyse, ranne forth, and
found his man Miles on the ground, and the Devill
hurling fire on the house top. First laid he the Devill
againe : then went he to his man and asked how hee got
that broken legg ? Hee told him his Devill did it : for
he had frighted him, and made him leape off from the
house top. What didst thou there, (said his Master ?)
I went to coniure. Sir (said Miles) for money ; but I
have got nothing but a broken legge ; and I now must
beg for money to cure that, if you be not the more pitti-
fuUtome. I have oftentimes given you warning not to ,
meddle with my bookes (said his Master) and yet you
wiU still be doing : take heed, you had best, how
you deale with the Devill againe : for he that had
power to breake your legge will breake your necke,
if you againe doe meddle with him : for this I doe
forgive you: for your legge breaking hath paid for
your sawcinesse : and though I gave you not a broken
head, I will give you a plaister: and so sent him
to the chirurgions.

How two young Gentlemen that came to Fryer Bacon,
to know how their fathers did, kHled one another ;
and how Fryer Bacon for griefe, did breake his rare
Glasse, wherein he could see any thing that was
done within fifty miles about him.

It is spoken of before now, that Fryer Bacon had a
glasse, which was of that excellent nature, that any man

246 THE FAMOUS HISTOEY

might behold any thing that he desired to see within
the compasse of fifty nules round about him : with this
glasse he had pleasured divers kinds of people : for
&ther8 did oftentimes desire to see (thereby) how their
children did, and children how their parents did ; one
friend how another did ; and one enemy (sometimes)
how his enemy did : so that &om far they would come
to see this wonderfull glasse. It happened one day,
that there came to him two young gentlemen, (that
were oountrey men, and neighbors children) for to
know of him by his glasse, how their fathers did : Hee
being no niggard of his cunning, let them see his glasse,
wherein they straight beheld their wishes, which they
(through their owne follies) bought at their lives losse,
as you shall heare.

The &thers of these two gentlemen, (in their sonnes
absence) were become great foes : this hatred betweene
them was growne to that height, that wheresoever
they met, they had not onely wordes, but blowes.
Just at that time, as it should seeme, that their sonnes
were looking to see how they were in health, they
were met, and had drawne, and were together by the
eares. Their sonnes seeing this, and having been
alwayes great friends, knew not what to say to one
another, but beheld each other with angry lookes. At
last, one of their fathers, as they might perceive in the
glasse, had a fall, and the other taking advantage, stood
over him ready to strike him. The sonne of him that
was downe, could then containe himselfe no longer, but

OF FBTEB BACON. 247

told the other young man, this his father had received
wrong. He answered againe, that it was faire. At
last there grew such foule words betweene them, and
their bloods were so heated, that they presently stabbed
one the other with their daggers, and so fell downe
dead.

Fryer Bacon seeing them fall, ranne to them, but it
was too late, for they were breathlesse ere he came.
This made him to grieve exceedingly : he iudging that
they had received the cause of their deaths by this glasse,
tooke the glasse in his hand, and uttered words to this
effect :

Wretched Bacon, wretched in thy knowledge, in thy
understanding wretched ; for thy art hath beene the
ruine of these two gentlemen. Had I been busied in
those holy things, the which mine order tyes me to, I
had not had that time that made this wicked glasse:
wicked I well may call it, that is the causer of so vile an
act : would it were sensible, th6n should it feele my
wrath ; but being as it is, He ruin it for ruining of them :
and with that he broke his rare and wonderfull glasse,
whose like the whole world had not. In this grief of his,
came there newes to him of the deaths of Yandermast
and iPryer Bungey : This did increase his griefe, and
made him sorrowfull, that in three days he would not
eate any thing but kept his chamber.

248 THE ¥AMOUa HISTOBT

How Fryer Bacon burnt his books of Magick, and gave
himselfe to the study of Divinity only ; and how he
turned Anchorite.

Ik the time that Pryer Bacon kept his chamber, hee fell
into divers meditations : sometimes into the vanity of
arts and sciences : then would hee condemne himselfe
for studying of those things that were so contrary to his
order and soules health ; and would say, that magicke
made a man a Devill : sometimes would hee meditate on
divinity ; then would he cry out upon himselfe, for
neglecting the study of it, and for studying magick :
sometime would he meditate on the shortnesse of mans
life, then would he condemne himselfe for spending a
time so short, so ill as he had done his : so would he goe
from one thing to another and in all condemne his for-
mer studies.

And that the world should know how truly he did re-
pent his wicked life, he caused to be made a great fire ;
and sending for many of his friends, schollers,and others,
he spake to them after this manner : My good friends
and fellow students, it is not unknowne unto you, how
that through my art I have attained to that credit, that
few men living ever had : of the wonders that I have
done, all England can speak, both king and commons :
I have unlocked the secret of art and nature, and let the
world see those things, that have layen hid since the
death of Hermes, that rare and profound philosopher :

or PBTEE BACOH*. 249

my studies have found the secrets of the starres ; the
bookes that I have made of them, doe serve for presi-
dents to our greatest doctors, bo excellent hath my
judgment beene therein. I likewise have found out the
secrets of trees, plants and stones, with their several
uses ; yet all this knowledge of mine I esteeme so
lightly, that I wish that I were ignorant, and knew
nothing : for the knowledge of these things, (as I have
truly found) serveth not to better a man in goodnesse,
but onely to make him proud and thinke too well of
himselfe. What hath all my knowledge of natures
secrets gained me ? Onely this, the losse of a better
knowledge, the losse of divine studies, which makes the
immortall part of man (his soule) blessed. I have
found, that my knowledge has beene a heavy burden,
and has kept downe my good thoughts : but I will
remove the cause, which are these bookes : which I doe
purpose here before you all to bume. They all intreated
him to spare the bookes, because in them there were
those things that after-ages might receive great benefit
by. He would not hearken unto them, but threw them
all into the fire, and in that flame burnt the greatest
learning in the world. Then did he dispose of all his
goods ; some part he gave to poor schoUers, and some
he gave to other poore folkes : nothing left he for him-
selfe : then caused he to be made in the church-wall a
cell, where he locked himselfe in^ and there remained
tiU his death. His time hee spent in prayer, medita-
tion, and such divine exercises, and did seeke by all

250 THE HISTOBT OF VBTXR BACOK.

means to perswade men from the study of magicke.

Thus lived he some two yeeres space in that cell, never

comming forth : his meat and drink he received in at a

window, and at that window he did discourse with those

that came to him ; his grave he digged with his

owne najles, and was laid there when he dyed.

ThuB was the Life and Death of this famous

Fryer, who lived most part of his lite a

Magician, and dyed a true Penitent

Sinner, and an Anchorite.

FRIER RUSH

FRIER RUSH.

The Plectsant Htstortf of Frier Bush is a book of
great rarity, and was by Bitson ranked as a deside-
ratum in the illustration of English Romance ; two
copies of it were, however, known to exist, when
this Collection was printed in 1828 ; one in the pos-
session of the Marquis of Stafford, and a second the
property of Mr. Heber, from which latter a limited
reprint was made in 1810.

Although the earliest English version of Eriar
Rush, which is at present known, bears date only
in 1620, it was most probably printed at a much
earHer period, and a translation from the German,
possibly from the low German version presently to be
described. The story of Eriar Rush is to be found in
a metrical form in German at a very early date. In
1515 it was printed at Strasburgh. It was afterwards
published at Nurenburg by Valentin Newber, whose
edition however bears no date, but was probably
printed between 1550 and 1560, a period during which
other works were issued from the same press. There
is also a third German edition, printed at Magdeburg

254 PREFACE.

in 1587, a copy of which is now before me. The
Strasburgh edition was reprinted some years since,
under the editorship of those accomplished scholars
Ferdinand Wolf and Stephen Endlicher, who, in their
introduction and valuable illustrative notes, have pretty
well exhausted the history of this once popular Story
Eook.

The following is a specimen of the old German
metrical version —

Ein Kloster vor ein walde lag

Bar in man vil der wander flag
Do waren munch ein michel theil,

Sie waren iung and dar zao geil,
Und schwarae kutten truogen sie dar

Sie dienten gott gar wenig zwar.
Ein yetlicher wolt haben ein eigen weib;

Des ward ander ynen mancher streyt.
Der teufel ir leben bald innen wardt;

Er macht sich zao yn aff die fart,
Zuom kloster er gar balde ging

In der gestalt einfi inngeling.
Fur das kloster der abt kam gegangen;

Rausch ward Ton im gar schon enpfangen.
Der abt sprach: "longer knecht wo her?

Was ist dein meinong and beger,
Das du so kampst in schneller frist

Ob dir etwas an uns befolhen ist?"
Rausch sprach; " herr, ich sag uch recht,

Ich bin ein armer kuchen knecht.
Auch kan ich wol schweigcn and verhelen,

Was mir die guoten lent befehlen."

FBEPAOE. 255

There is, however, a yet earlier Q-erman version.
It is in the low German dialect, and although the
copy of it in ' the library of Herr von Meusebach of
Berlin bears no date, it is described by Haupt as being
obviously of the close of the fifteenth or beginning of
the sixteenth century. It concludes with the follow-
ing lines — in which the reader will observe that the
subject of the poem bears a name far more like that in
the English version than that in the German —

De wyle dat hemmel unde erde stadt
Broder rutsche heuet hyr ein ende
He was in alle schalckheit behende
Ock wyl ick alle moneken leren
Dat se syk nicht mir broder mssche beweren
Want alle synz werken hadden ein qnadt ende
God yam hemmele uns syn gnade sende.

Amen.

The origin of the Eomance is, however, unquestion-
ably Banish, for not only does the German version
refer distinctly to Denmark as the scene of the story —

In Denmark bey HeUinghore genant
Bo ym das Kloster was wol bekant,

and again —

das kloster sey Essron in Benmarch genant

Bey Helsingbore in Seelant wol bekant,
Und under dem bistum Roaachilde gelegen
Und des Ordens Bemhardini pflegen, —

but Thiele in his JDanske Folksagn gives us, moreover.

256 PBEFAGE.

specimens of a Danish Poem on the subject, and also
the following popular tradition.

BROTHER RUSH.

It is related that when the Deyil once upon a time saw how
piously and yirtuonsly the Monks lived in the Monastery of
Esrom, he took npon himself the shape of a man, and went to the
gate and knocked at it, for to be let in, saying that his name was
Rush. Then he gaye himself out that he was a Cooks-boy and
was received as such by the Abbot. But when he was once by
himself with the Master Cook he set himself up against him and
got himself therefore punishment ; at this he was sore displeased,
and as he had previously a cauldron with water over the fire,
and he now perceived that it boiled, he took with all his might
the Master Cook and placing him head downwards in it, began
thereupon to run about and to cry, lamenting the misfortune as if
it had happened to his master in cooking. Thus he cheated in
this manner with falsehood all the brothers in the cloister, that
they thought him altogether free, and he was now appointed by
them the Master Cook. But it was what he had strived after,
in order that he might afterwards deprave them altogether; for
now he cooked the meat so unctuously and lickerishly, that the
monks neglected fasts and prayers, and gave themselves to feasting.
Nay it is said also, that he brought women into the Monastery,
and came thereby much in the Abbotts favor, so that he at last
caused him to become a Brother, because he well desired con-
stantly to have such a cook at hand. From that time strife and
malice prevailed so severely in the Monastery, that it had surely
come in the power of the Evil One, if none of the Brethren
had repented in time. For instance — Once Brother Rush was in
the wood, and having there seen a beautiful fat cow — ^he slew it
and took himself one quarter with him to the Monastery, but
hung up the rest on a tree in the forest. Then presently came by

PEErACK. * 257

the countrjman who owned the cow; and when he perceived how
the three quarters hung in the tree, he hid himself in the other
trees to watch until the thief fetched away the remainder.
Then he saw, as he sat there, how the Devils had their sport in
the forest, and heard much talking about Hush, how iie would
invite the Abbot and Monks to the banquet with him in Hell.
This caused the coimtryman great alarm,* and the next day
he went to the Abbot, and related to him all that he had seen
and heard in the forest.

When the Abbot heard this he caused all the monks to come
to him in the church, and they began there to pray and to
sing, so that Hush, as he could not abide the like, was desirous
to sneak away. But the Abbot grasped him by the cloak and
exorcised him into a red horse — and gave him into the power
of Hell. For many years after these events they showed in
the Monastery of Esrom Hush's Iron Cauldron and Gridiron.

WMe to remove all doubt upon the subject, Pon-
toppidan, in bis Theatrum Dania, p. 91, tells us that
before the Monastery of Esserum was converted into a
dwelling. Friar Eush's effigy was to be seen there, with
the following epitaph, half Latin and half Danish :

Hie jacet John Freest
Qui dedet suum graa HtBSt,
Nee non de siligine tue LcBtt
Semper comedebat det IxBst
Hequiescit in pulvere aud vast*

Frier Bush, who was however known to Beginald
Scott before the History of his Franks was published,
was very properly classed by him with Bobin Good*

VOL. I. 8

258 FBEFACX.

fellow, and in Harsenet's Declaration, chap. xx. p. 134,

we find them again noticed together. ''And if that the

"bowle of curds and cream were not duly set out

"for Bobin GK)odfellow, the Frier, and Sisse the

« dairy-maide, yrhy then either the pottage was

" burnt, or the cheese would not curdle, or the butter

'' would not come, or the ale in the &t never would

"have good head.'^ The old song of The Mad

Pranks of Bobin Goodfellow, proves their identity

still more clearly by its aUusion to a transmutation

which we see exercised in the course of the following

tale: —

Sometimes I meete them like a man,

Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound,
And to a horse turn me I can,

To trip and trot about them round.

In fact, whether he is called Bobin Goodfellow,
Puck, or Bush, his actions and attributes every
where identify the hero of the present Bomance •' as
the personification of the principle of evil.'** He is
the Scottish Bed Oap, and the Saxon spirit Hudken,
or Sodeken, so called firom the hoodiken, or little
hood or hat, which he wore, and which also covers
his head when he appears in the shape of the Kisse
of Sweden. In that amusing and interesting work

* Quarterlj Beview, vol. 22. p. 353, &c.

• PBEEAGE. 259

the Fairy Mytliology, vol. 2, p. 68, we are told that
Hoodeken took up his abode in the palace of the
Bishop of Hildesheim. One of the scullions in the
Bishop's kitchen having flung dirt on him, and
splashed him with foal water, Hoodeken complained
to the head cook, who only laughed at him, and said
**Are you a spirit, and afraid of a little boy?"
" Since you won't punish the boy," said Hoodeken,
" I will in a few days let you see how much afraid
of him I am," and went off in high dudgeon; but
very soon after he got the boy asleep at the fire-side,
and he strangled him, cut him up, and put him into
the pot on the fire. In Swedeland Puck assumes the
name of Nissegoddreng^ or Kisse the good knave,
and consorts with the Tomtegubbe, or the old man of
the house toft, who is of the same genus. From
''G-ubbe'* the old man employed as the name of a
demon, the Normans seem to have formed Ooblin oc
Gobelin (quasi Gubbelein,) and the Spanish Dtcende, a
demon particularly noted for his powers of transfor-
mation, appears to correspond in every respect to the
Tomte Ghubbe; and the name according to Coba-
ruvias, is contracted from Dueno de Casa, the master
of the house.

Before bringing to a close our notice of the form
under which ** The Merry "Wanderer" now presents

260 PBXTAOS.

hiniBelf to our notice, we may refer to the testi-
monj of Bruno Seidelius

Qnifl nan legit, qnid Frater RanschioB egit ?*

for further evidence that.it is one in which he enjoyed
an extensive popularity; while the Kinder und Saua
Marchen of the Brothers Grimm likewise contains two
taleSyf Des teufeU msiiger Bruder, and Der Teufel
Qrunrock, which probably take their origin from the
same source.

* ParoemiBB EthictB, Franoof. 15S9.
t Vol. 2. pp. 84 and 89.

THE HISTORIE

OF

FRIER RUSH

HOW HE CAME TO

A HOUSE OF RELIGION TO SEEKB SERVICE, AND

BEING ENTERTAINED BY THE PRIOUR, WAS

FIRST MADE UNDER COOKE.

BEING FULL OF

PLEASANT MIRTH AND DELIGHT
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

IHFBINTEO AT LONDON BT BDW. ALL-DE, DWELLING
NEEBB CUBIST-CHUBCH.

1020.

A PLEASANT HISTORY, HOW A DEVILL (NAMED

RUSH) CAME TO A RELIGIOUS HOUSE. TO

SEEKE A SERVICE.

Thebe was sometime beyond the sea edified and founded
a certaine house and cloister of religious men^ which
house was founded at a great forrests side, for to main^
taine the service of almighty God, and daily to pray for
their benefactors and founders, and for the salvation of
their owne soules : which place by reason of their foun*
ders and well disposed people (which gave unto it
largely of their goods and possessions) increased in
riches, and every man had gold and silver at their will,
and also of meate and drinke they had great plenty : in
so much that they were so well at ease and had so much,
that they wist not what to doe they were so full of wan-
tonnesse, whereby the service of Almighty God was not
well maintained among them : for oftentimes they said
neither Mattins nor Evensong: and through their great
negligence they forgat cleane the charge that they were
bound to when they entred into their religion, and they
lived more like beasts without reason, then like men of
good and holy conversation : for they haunted harlots
and lived viciously, and the goodsthat was given them by

264 ▲ FLEASAl^T HISTORIC

good and well disposed people, they spent in untlirifti-
nesse and rjbauldry. And when the great prince of
devils which are the patrones of all vices understood of
the great misrule and vile living of these religious men :
consulted to keepe them still in that state, and worse if
it might be. And these be the names of the devils.

Belphegor who was Princo of G-luttony, Asmodeus
Prince of Lechery, and Belzebub Prince of Envie, with
many other divels assembled together, which reioyced
for the misorder of these religious men. And as they
were all assembled together with one accord: they chose
a divell to goe and dwell among these religious men, for
to maintaine them the longer in their ungracious living,
which divell was put in rayment like an earthly crea-
ture, and went to a religious house, and there he stood
at the gate a certaine space all alone with an heavie
countenance. Then within a while after the Priour
came unto the gate and espied Eush the young man
standing there all alone. Anon he said unto him, what
dost thou here, and what wouldest thou have. The
young man with great reverence answered and said: Sir,
I am a poore young man, and am out of service, and
faine would have a maister. And sir if it please you to
have me, I shall doe you diligent service, and shall doe so
well that you and all your brethren and covent shall be
glad of me, for I shall keepe so well your secrets, that I
trust to obtaine at all times your good love and favour,
and all theirs also.

And when the Priour had heard his words, he was

OF FRIES BirsH. 265

mooved with pittie, and said : G-oe into the kitchen to
the Cooke, and shew him that I have sent thee thither,
and bid him shew thee what thou shalt doe : for thou
shalt be with him a certaine season, till that some other
better thing fall. Then the young man made his re-
verence to the Priour, and thanked him, and foorth he
went to the kitchin, where hee found the maister Cooke.
Anon he made reverence unto him, and said : Sir, my
maister the Priour hath sent me hither unto you, and he
commaundeth you to shew me what I shall doe, for I
must be here and helpe you. The maister Cooke an-
swered and said, you be welcome. And anon hee set
him to such businesse as he had to doe. And thus the
deviU became under-Cooke in the place that he was
assigned unto, by the Prince of Devils. And then hee
said (laughing to himselfe) as followeth.

These being the words of the DeviQ.

I am right glad that my purpose is come so well to
passe, for now all mine intent is fulfilled, and I doubt
not but all shall be ours : for I shall make such debate
and strife among the Friers, that they shall never be at
concord and peace. And I shall make them good staves
wherewith the one shall beate welLthe other: and often
times they shal lye together by the eares, in so much that
there was never seen nor heard tell of such a rumour
and discord in no Cloyster in the world. And I shall
use myselfe so, that I shall be in great love and favour
among them.

Then within foure or five dayes after, it fortuned

266 A. PLEASANT HISTOBIX

thatthe Fnour came into thekitchiii) and there he found
the young man, to whom he said, where wast thou
borne, and what is thy name ? The young man answered
and said, sir, I was borne very farre henee, and Eush is
. my name. Then said the Priour imto him, Eush canst
thou couple hounds together ? Yea sir (said Eush) that
I can do right well, and more then that, for I can couple
men and women together, which is a more mastrie, and
also sir (if neede be) I can convay a faire woman into
your chamber, and convay her home againe in the
morning so secretly, that no man shall spye it. And
also I shall keepe your counsaile so secretly, that it shall
never be knowne. And when the Priour heard Eush
speake so, he was right glad of him, and said : Eush, if
thou canst doe as thou hast said ? I shall reward thee
well for thy labour, and thou shalt be my most wel-
beloved servant ; wherefore make an end of thy busi-
nesse, for soone thou shalt goe a little way on a message
for me, and so he departed and went to supper. And
when every man had supped, and Eush had done all his
businesse in the kitchin, hee came unto his maister the
Priour, and said, sir, what is your will with me P the
Priour answered and said: here a little beside dwelleth a
faire gentlewoman, the which I love very well, but I dare
not discover my minde unto her myselfe : and if thou
canst finde the meanes to bring her secretly unto me, I
shall reward thee right well for thy labour and paine.
And when Eush had heard the words of his maister, and
knew all his minde, he answered and said : Sir, be of

07 TBIER StJSH. 267

good cheere, and let mee alone with that matter: for I
shall goe unto the gentlewoman's house, and I shall say
your message so well, that this night she shall come to
you : and so departed Bush from his maister, and went
straight unto this gentlewoman's house. And when he
was thither come, hee found the gentlewoman sitting all
alone. And when Bush was espied of her, he made
unto her great courtesie, and with many reyerences these
words he said.

How a Devill named Bush came into a G-entlewomans
house, and how he brought her privily unto his
Maisters chamber.

Best you merry faire mistresse, the most fairest crea-
ture in the world. My Maister greeteth you by me,
desiring you to come and speake with him. Then said
the Gentlewoman to Bush, who is your Maister, and
what is his will with me P faire Mistresse, said Bush,
I will shew you, my Maister is the Priour in a house of
religion here beside, and he loveth you so well except
that you come unto him this night, I know he will be
dead for sorrow.

Here foUoweth the answere of the G-entle woman.

AiTD when the Gentlewoman had heard the words of
Bush, shee answered and said, Eaire Sir, it were great
pittie that the gentleman should die for my sake, and
rather then he should so doe for me, I will come to
him, and shew him all the courtesie that I can. Bush

968 ± PLXAflUKT HISTOSIX

waB y^ry glad of those comfortable words^ and thought
that hie enterprise was well brought to passe, and he
said unto her : Faire Mistresse, may it please you to
take the labour and go with me, and I shall bring you
to my master, and as I suppose, hee will make you good
cheare, and gold and silver you shall lacke none, for
hee hath great plenty thereof. Then said the Grenl^e-
woman, Sir, I pray you let us depart hence: for as I
suppose the gentleman looketh long for us. So foorth
they went both together, till they came to the Priours
chamber. And when the Friour sawe that she was
come : he was the gladdest man in the world, and
thanked Eush much for his labour and paine : and so
the Priour received her into his chamber, and there he
made her good cheere, and they had good meate and
wine great plenty. And when they had well refreshed
themselves, Bush departed, and went to the kitchin,
and left the Priour and the G-entlewoman alone, and
there she saved the Priours life. And when Eush was
in the kitchin, hee said unto himselfe : I am right glad
that I have brought this matter so well to passe : and I
doubt not but they will agree well enough together, for
they be both of one accord. And when the other
friers perceived that Eush was such a privie fellow, and
so well could keepe counsaLle : they desired him to
helpe them also, and so he did : for he brought to every
man, the woman that they most desired, whereof they
had great mervaile. But they were so blinded with
ignorance, that they never perceived that he was a very
Devill, but every man had liim in love and favour.

OT FBIEB BUBH. 269

How Frier Eush threw the maister Cooke into a kettell
of water seething upon the firQ, wherein he died*

It befell upon a day that Bush went forth to sport him^
and it was very late ere he came home againe, and the
maister Cooke was very angry with him that hee was
so long absedt. And as soone as Bush was entred into
the kitchin : the Cooke began to chide, and said unto
him, thou horson knave where hast thou beene so long:
and with a great staffe hee laid upon Bush and beat him
sore. And when Bush saw that the Cooke was angry,
and so farre out of reason, and that he had beaten him
sore : anon he began to waxe very angry with the
maister Cooke, and said unto him : thou horson viU
laine, why hast thou beaten me thus : I wjil be revenged
on the6 : and suddainly he caught him in his armes, and
threw him into a great kettell which was full of w'ater
seething upon the fire, and said, lye thou there in the
DivelB name : for now thou shalt neither fight nor chide
no more with me : and so Bush slew the maister Cooke.
Then when bee had so done, hee departed out of the
kitchin, and went to the next towne to fetch the faire
woman againe for his maister: and in his absence
certaine of the firiers came into the kitchin to speake
with Bush, but they found no body stirring therein, and
some of them wetnt to stand by the fires side, to tarie
till Bush came in : for they thought he would not tarie
long. And as they stood tallcing by the fires side, they
spied a man in the kottell seething upon the fire. And

270 A PLBASAlfT HISTORIE

anon they perceived that it was the maister Cookei
whereof they were greatly abashed. And with that
(crying out) they went unto the Priour and shewed him
that the maister Cooke had drowned himselfe in a
kettell seething upon the fire in the kitchin : for which
tydings the Priour was right sorrie. And in the meane
season Bush came home, and had conveyed the woman
into his maisters chamber. And anon the friers shewed
Eush of the great misfortune that was fallen on the
maister Cooke in the kitchin, and he made as he had
beene sorrie therefore, and had knowne nothing thereof,
and he was in great love and favour with the Priour
and all the friers, that they mistrusted him nothing for
that deede, and so there was no more mention of the
maister Cooke. Then the Priour commanded that Bush
should be made Cooke, and all the covent was right
glad of that, and so he was himselfe also, for he thought
his enterprises came well to passe after his minde, and
as he would have it. Thus Bush became maister Cooke
in the kitchin, and dressed their meate mervailous well :
for in the Lent, and in the Advent, both Pridayes and
also other dayes, he put bacon into their pottage pot^
the which made the pottage to savour well, and he
dressed their meate so deliciously, that the Priour and
all the friers had great mervaile that he did it so well :
in so much that they said he did much better then their
other maister Cooke did, and that he was a more cun-
ninger man in his occupation, and could doe much
better in his office. Thus Bush continued in that office

OF FBTER RUSH. 27 f

the space of seaven yeares, and did right well, and eyery
man had him in love and favour. Then it fortuned
upon a day the Priour and his brethren were assembled
together in a generall counsaile, and as they stood
talking together, the Priour remembered Bush, and
anon he said unto his brethren : Eriends we have here
Eush which is our maister Cooke in our kitohin, and he
is an olde servant, and much diligent and true service
he hath done to us, and he hath continued among us
longer then any servant that ever wee had : wherefore
me thinke it reason, that hee were promoted into some
other office, and made a brother among us. Then all
the whole Covent with one voice said they were content
it should so be. So the Priour sent for Bush, and when
he was come before him and all his brethren, the Priour
said, Eiush it is so, thou hast beene here a long season,
and we have found thee hitherto a true and diligent
servant, wherefore wee will that thou be promoted, and
take upon thee an habite as we have, and to become a
brother among us. Bush answered and said : my
Maisters I thanke you all, and then the Priour gave
Bush an habite, and put it on his backe, and so Bush
became a brother in the place, neverthelesse he kept
his office still.

How Frier Bush made Truncheons for the Friers to

fight withall.

When Bush had on the habite of a Frier, and was
a brother in the place, he had more vacation dayes

272 A PLEASANT HIBTOBIS

then he had before. And as a king or a great prince
pjpepareth ordinances against their warres, in likewise
did Frier Bush : for when all his businesse was done in
the kitchin, and that he had leysure, he went and sate
in the port of the utter gate, and there he was making
of good bigge Truncheons of oke. And he made then^
with hilts over the hand for slipping, of the which the
other Friers had great mervaile, and demanded of him
wherefore he made those Truncheons. Bush answered
and said : Faire Sirs, I make them for this intent : that
if there come any theeves hither for to rob us, and to
spoile our place, yet shall we haye weapons to defend
uswithall. And therefore I make them. And moreover,
when any neede shall be, come to mee and every man
shall have one, and they shall be ready at your com-
mandement, and then the Friers thanked him and so
departed. Then it fortuned upon a day, that the Friour
and Subpriour fell at discord, and were greevously
angry, the one with the other, and would have fought
together, but onely for shame : neverthelesse, the anger
abode still in their hearts, and all was for an harlot :
within a while after the noyse spread abroad among
the Friers, that the Friour and the Subpriour were
fallen at discord, for the which they were angry in their
mindes. And they that loved the Friour, tooke his part,
and they that loved the Subpriour, tooke his part, and^so
they murmured among themselves. Then they ap-
pointed in their mindes to revenge their quarrels at one
time or other, and so to make a more surer way in ful-

OP PBIEB BTTSH. 273

filling their malicious mindes and angry hearts, every
man after other went privately to Erier Eush to lend
them staves, in so much that there was not a Frier in
the place but he had one, and they never went without
their rstaves under their habite, and the one knew not
that the other had any, they kept them so secretly. And
when Frier Eush had delivered all his staves, he was
right glad in his hearty for he knew right well there
should be a great fray among them, either one time or
other. So it fortuned afterward, as it is a common cus-
tome among religious people at an high feast, to keepe
Bolemne service, and every man to be at Mattens at
midnight, and so upon a good night, all the whole
Covent assembled together in the Quier, and were
ready to begin Mattens, they taried for nothing but for
the comming of the Priour. Then anon the Priour came
into the Quier, and sate him downe in his place, and as
he looked about him, he espied that the Subpriour was
there present, and with that his heart began to grudge
of the olde anger that was fallen betweene them two,
and he thought in his minde that he could never be
revenged in a better time, and sodainly he rose out of
his place, and went to the Subpriour, and with his fist
he gave him a good buffet, and the Subpriour which was
moved with the stroke, started unto the Priour and
gave him another buffet, and with that they went
jfreshly together by the eares, and when the other Friers
saw that, every man rose out of their places, and drew
out their Truncheons, and- together they went : who

VOL. I. T

274 ▲ PIiIABAHT HI8TQBIB

had been there should have seene good baffeta giyen on
both parties. And when Frier Bush saw that thej were
fighting together, anon he blew out all the candles and
lamps that were burning in the diurch, and left no
manner of light therein wherebj the one might seethe
other; and when he had so done, he tooke his truncheon
in his hand, and went into the Quier among the thickest
of the Friers the which were fighting freshly without
Ught, and there he laid so lustily about, that many of
them he felled to the ground, and left them there for
dead, and when he had so done, he stole his waj finom
them, and as hee went, he found standing in the portall
of the Quier, a great olde deske, and anon hee tooke the
deske betweene both his hands, and threw it over the
portall into the Quier among all the Friers, and. hurt
many sore, in so much that some had an arme broken,
and some a legge, and other some had their noses,
cleane pared from their faces, that the blond ranne in
their mouthes, and as for broken heads to the hard
scalpe were no dainty, for every man had one, there
scaped none firee away, who had been there, should have
had a goodly pastime to see the Friers creepe about the
Quier, and in steede of (Domine labia) they cried out
alas and well away. Then when the &ay was done, and
all the noyse seased, Eush came in among them with a'
candell lig}it in his hand, and made as he had knowne
nothing thereof, and said to them : Fie for shame sirSy
how fortuned this discord to fall among your selves P I
see well now you regard not your honour, nor the good

I

OF FBIE^ BVBH. 275

name of jour place. All the people shall saj ye be not
holiest, nor good religious men, the which words I
would be loath to heare, and I may not suffer our place
so to fall in an OTill name : wherefore good niaQters I
require you to set your hearts at rest, and put the matter
into my hands, and I shall doe so much that all shall be
well, and you shal be good Mends againe, and no words
shall be spoken thereof; then every man complained ta
him of their great hurt, and he made semblance aa he
had been sorie therefore and then they that could goe,
went up to their $els, and they that could not goe, did
ereepe up as well as they could, and laid them downe ii^
their beds, and there they lay till they were whole
i^gaine, and in the space of three weekes and more, Gtod
was eyill served, for in all that space they sung neither
Mattins nor Evensong, nor never entred into the phurch
for it was suspended, and lor shame they durst never let
it be knowne. And when they were all whole, and every
man upon his feete againe, and might goe about the
house, they brought againe tiieir staves to Frier Bush,
and thanked him much, and then Frier Bush said ipitq
them : Sirs when ye have neede of them againe, ye sbaU
finde them here ready at your commandement, for whicl^
they gave him thankes, and departed. When Frier
Bush saw that that they were gone, and that he had all
his staves againe, he laughed unto himself and said : I am
right joyfull that mine enterprises be come 9Q well
to passe, for I have done many mischievous deeds sincf
I oame first, and yet I will doe more before I depart

276 A PLEASAKT HI8T0BIS

hence, for I shall cause them to be damned, and I shall
bring their bodies and soules into the burning fire of
hell, there to remaine world without end, and of me
shall be spoken a thousand yeeres hereafter.

How Prier Sush grymed the Waggon with Tarre, and
what cheare he made in the country.

AiiTOTHEB time it fortuned that the Priour had a journey
to ride into the country about a little businesse that hee
had there to doe, and anon he called Eush his servant
unto him and said, Bush goe thy way into the court, and
take with thee a dish full of greace, and greace well the
wheeles and axeltrees of the waggon, and make all things
ready against to-morrow in the morning, for I must ride
forth to-morrow betimes, then Eush departed from his
maister, and went about his businesse, and insteed of
greace, hee tooke a great vessell full of tarre, and
anointed the waggon aU oyer with it, both within and
without, and especially in the place where the Priour
should sit : and when he had done, he returned to his
maister's chamber, then the Priour demanded of Eush,
if he had done as he commanded him : yea sir said Eush,
ye may ride when please you, and so they went to their
beds. Then on the morrow after, the Priour and Eush
his servant with his other company, rose up very early in.
the momiDg for to accomplish their journey, and forth
they went unto their waggon, and when the Priour was
entred therein, hee perceived himselfe all to betrayed and
smeyred, and all his clothes were filed therewith : audi

OF FBIEB RUSH. 277

then he said to Bush, thou lewd fellow, what hast thou
done to this waggon that I am thus arayed therein ?
Bush answered and said : sir, I have done nothing but
as you commanded me. That is not, said the Priour, for
I commaunded thee to take greace and grease but the
wheeles and the axeltrees, and thou hast taken tarre and
annointed it all over, both within and without. Why
hast thou done so P Sir said Bush, I understoode you
bad me doe so. And when the Priour sawe there was no
other remedie,he commanded his servants to make ready
another waggon, and in the meane season, the Priour
went into his chamber, and put on another habite, and
came againe and mounted into the waggon and went
their way, and so long they rode, that they came to
their iourneyes end. And when they were alighted at
their lodging, the Priour called for his supper, and anon
every thing was made ready, and the good man of the
house and the Priour sate downe to supper together,
and made good cheere and then the Priour called for
wine of the best, and anon he had his commandement.
And when the good man of the house and the Priour had
supped. Bush and his fellowes sate downe to the rever-
sions that their maisters had left, but they had no wine :
wherefore Bush was very sad, and ever he mused by what
policie he might get some wine. And anon he called the
wife of the house and said : Mistresse, I pray you fill
a pottle of wine for me and my fellowes, and so shee
did : and when that was gone, they called for another :
and then they called for the third, and so ended their

278 A BLEASAKT HIdTOBIS

fciupper. Then on the morrow when the Prioiir had done
all his businesse, and was readj to retume home againe :
he called for a reckoning. And anon» the good wife came
in and gave him a reckoning of all things, both horse
meate and man's meate ; and at last, she reckoned i^ee
pottels of wine that Bosh and his fbllowes had. And
When the Piiour heaH that his servants had dronke so
much wine : Anon he began to waxe very angrj, and
asked her, who commanded her to fill in so much wine P
the wife answered and said : Sir, Bush yotir servant
commaunded me to fill it in, and he said that you should
pay theref(»«. Hien anon the Priour called for Bush,
and said unto him : l^ou lewd knave, Why hast thou
drunke so much Wine P Might no lesse then pottels
Iserve the6 and thy fellowes ? Sir, said Bosh, we ^ve not
drunke so much, for your horses hath had two of the
potels. My horses, said the Priour 1 what should they
do with wine ? Yes dir, said Bush, your horses laboured
•sorer than we did, and were very weary, and they had
nothing but hay and oates : wherefore, me thought it
needefull to give them some good drinke to their course
meate to comfort their hearts withail, and to cause l^iem
to be the lustier, and to have the better courage to bring
you homeward. And when the Priotur had heard that
answere of Bush, and saw there was no remedy but pa-
tience, he paid for the wine, and all things tliat he had
taken there, and so rode home in his waggon, and ¥net
Bush never went forth againe with his master.

OJT ITBIEA MVML, 2/9

How the Priour made Frier Bu^h Sexton among the
Priers, and how he charged him to give him know-
ledge how many Priers were absent &om Mattins at
midnight, and what thej were.

Whest the Prior was come home, bee made Fri^ Sush
«exton of the church, and his office was to ring the bell
and to light the caadle6,and to cal the Friers to Mattins
at mid-night, and also the Prior commaanded Bush and
charged him, that be should take good heede that there
werencHieof the fViers absent from Mattins,and if there
were to give him knowledge thereof, then saide Bush to
Jiismaster : Sir all your commaundementshal be fuMSed,
and so they departed. And within three or foure nigh1»
after. Bush espied oertaine of the Friers that were
•absent, and he marked them well, and on the morrow
after he presented them to the Prior, and annon the
Prior caused them to come before him, and gave
them a check, for their being absent ; in a little time,
!l^ush had presented them all which-caused the Prior fco
be greatly offended with them: when they perceived
that Bush had made such complaints against them, they
bad him in much disdaine, but they could not -amend it :
for bee had them in such great feare, that never afber
iihey durst be abs^it, but well was bee that might be
•first in the Quier. When Bush perceived the Fryers
had him in so great feare, he devised to doe some
mischievous thing among them : and upon a night, a
little before he should ring to Mattins, he went and
brake downe the staires of the Dorter, and when he had

280 ▲ FLBASAKT HI8T0BII

BO done, he went and rung to Mattins, and lighted the
lamps and candles in the church, and went into the
Dorter, and called up the Fryers, and so came and sate
at the staires foote as he was wont to doe ; he had sitten
there but awhile, but anon there came one, who thought
no hurt but to goe soberly into the Quier as he was wont
to doe, and when he came to the staires downe he fell,
and had a mervailous great fal : then said Eush, thou art
one. Presently there came another, and likewise downe
he fell, and had a sore fall, thou art two, said Eush.
Anon came the third Frier, which had a mightie great
bellie, and was a grosse man, and he made great hast,
for he feared that he should haye been last, and when he
came to the staires, downe he fell on his fellowes necks,
and he was go great and so heavie, that almost he had
^mischieved his fellowes that lay under him : thoumakest
three said Eush. And with that there came seaven or
eight together, and downe they fell all at once. Softly
masters for shame, said Eush, ye come too many at
once, ye were not wont to be so hastie,but now I percieve
well ye would deceive me, and one would excuse the
other, and therefore ye come so thick to blind me in my
tale : How should I now give account to the Prior of
them that be absent P Surely,! cannot tell, but nbw I see
weU, ye be too subtil for me, I would some other man
had mine office, and made as though he had beene verie
angrie with them. Then the Fryers, such as could goe,
though it were to their paines, rose up againe, and Hmp-
ing went into the Quier, and they that feU first and lay

or TBIEB BUSH. 281

lunder, were sore hurt and could not goe and specially
the Frier with the great belly : yet neverthelesse, they
crept into the Quier, as well as they could. And when
they were all assembled together in the Quier, each of
them complained to other of their great hurts, and so
they began Mattins : whohadbeene there, should have
heard a heavie song and a sad, for they were not merrie
in their hearts,their paines were so great. When Mat-
tins was done, they that could goe, went up againe into
their lodgings, and they that could not goe, lay still in
the Quier all night : On the morrow, word was brought
to the Prior of the great misfortune that was fallen
among the Friers at midnight : for the which misfortune
the Prior was greatly displeased and angry in his minde,
and thought verily it was Eushes deede, for hee had
done divers evill tumes before. Then the Prior sent for*
Bush to come speake with him, and when he was come,
the Priorsaidunto Ru8h,howfell this misfortune tonight
among the Friers, that they be so sore hurt ? Sir said
Bush, I will shew you, it is not unknowne unto you,
that when you put me first into this of&ce, ye com-
maunded me to give you knowledge when any of my
brethren were absent from Mattins, and so have I done
divers times, whereby many of them have beene shent
and chidden by you, and for that cause, they owe me
evill will, and faine would have me out of this office, if
they wist how. And for to accomplish their desire, and
to cause you to be displeased with mee : I shall shew
you what they have done this night. Sir it is so, that

282 A P1BA.8AKT HIBTOBIE

when the time was come, I rung to Mattins and lighted
caiidle8> and made all things readie» and when I had so
done I went into the Dorter to every man's sell and
called them up, then I went and stoode at the staire
foote^ for to tell them as thej came downe, as I was ac-
customed to doe, and to knowe who came to Mattins,
and who did not, and for spite that I should not reckon
them, they came all on a cluster, and for hast the one
thrust the other downe the staires, and he that had the
greatest belly, had the hardest £b11 ; now if they hurt
themselves, what might I doe with all P And when the
Prior had heard the words of Bush, he wist not what to
say, but for to voyde all tribulations and misfortunes
that might fall in time to come, he put Sush out of his
office and set him in the kitchin againe, and when be
^as there all alone, he laughed to himselfe and said :
this enterprise is well brought to passe, and]I have made
a good sense thereof to the Prior, yea will I doe more ere
I depart out of this place.

How Bush went forth a sporfcing, and was late forth,
and how in his way comming home, he found^ a
cowe, which cowe he devided into two parts, the one
halfe hee tooke on his necke and carried it with him,
and the ofcher halfe he left still : and how soone he
had made it ready for the Friers suppers.

It befell upon a time that Rush when all his businesse
was done in the kitchin, he would goe forth into the
countrey to sport him and to passe the time with good

Of TBIEB BUSH. 288

company : as hee uralked on his way, his chaunce was
to come into a village, which was two or three mile from
the place where hee did dwell, and when hee was entred
into the village, hee looked round about him in every
comer to finde out some company to make merrie
withall : and at the last, espied an alehouse, and in he
entred, and there hee found good fellowes playing at
cardes, and drinking, and made cheare: then Bush
made obeysance to them, and sate downe among them,
and dranke with the players, and afterward he fell to
play, and was as merrie as any man in the company :
and so long he played and passed the time, that cleane
hee had forgotten what he had to doe at home, and the
day went fast away, and the night approached. Anon
Bush looked up and perceived that it was almost night,
remembred himselfe that there was nothing readie at
home for the priors supper and covent, and it wall
almost supper time, wherefore he thought it was time
to depart thence, so he payed for his drinke and tooke
his leave, and homeward he went, and in his way he
found a &t cowe grasing in the field, and sodaanly he
devided her into two parts, and the one halfe he left
lying there still, and the other halfe he tooke on his
necke and carried it home, and quickly hee made it
ready ; some he put in the pot, and some upon the spit,
aad he made a great fire and set on the pot, and layd to
the spit : and he made mervailous good pottage, and
rested the meate very well, and he made such speede,
that every thing was ready by the houre accustomed to

284 A FLEABAKT HISTORIE

goe to supper, whereof the Prior and all the Friers had
great mervaile, that he had made every thing readie so
soone, and was so well done ; for they knew that it was
late ere he came home : for some of the Friers had
beene in the kitchin a little before, and saw neither
eooke nor fire, nor any thing prepared toward supper,
wherefore they gave great praise to Erush, and said he
was very quicke in his office.

How a Farmer of the Priors sought his Cowe, and how
he was desolated by the way homeward, and was
faine to lye in a hollow tree : and of the vision that
he had.

Theeb was a poore husbandman, dwelling there beside,
which was a farmer of the priors : the which poore man
had a cowe abroad in the fields, that was accustomed
every night to come home at a certaine houre, and never
failed. And at the last a mischaunce fell unto her, for
Frier Bush had slaine her as she stoode in the field, and
so shee failed of her comming home at her houre as she^
was woont to doe. And when the poore man sawe that
his cowe came not home, he thought in his minde it was
not well with her, so foorth he went in an evening for to
seeke his cowe, and so long he travailed about in the
fields, that at the last hee found the one halfe of his
cowe lying there : but the other halfe was deane gone,
and shee was so cleanly divided m two parts, that hee
imagined in his minde that it was not possible to be
done (but) by man* s hands, for if any wilde beasts had done

or FRIER RTTSH. 285

it they would haYe spoyled the flesh : so hee returned
homeward againe, and ere hee came at the halfe way,
the night was so darke that he could not see which way
he went, and so hee went out of his way, and house
could he finde none : and at the last he came to an
hollow tree wherein he sate him downe, thinking there
to take his rest all night, and he had not sitten there
but a while, but anon there assembled a company of
Devils> and among them they had a great principall
maister whose name was Lucifer, and he was the first
that spake : and the first that was called was a Devill,
named Belzabub, and with a loud yoyce, he said
unto him, Belzabub what hast thou done for us P Belza-
bub answered and said, Sir I have caused debate and
strife to fall betweene brother and brother, insomuch
the one hath slaine the other : that is well done said the
maister Devill, thou shalt be well rewarded for thy
labour. Then foorth he called another Devill, named
Incubus, and demaunded of him what he had done ?
Sir, said Incubus, I have caused great debateand strife
to fall between two lords, through the which they have
had great warres, and many men have beene slaine :
then said the maister DeviU, thou art a true servant to
us, thou shalt be well rewarded for thy great labour and
paine. Then said the great maister unto another Devill
named Norpell, what hast thou done for us P Sir, said
I^orpell, I have beene among players at the dice and
cardes, and I have caused them to sweare many great
oathes, and the one to flea the other : and also I have

286 A 7LKASA5T HISTOBIE

caused debate and strife to fall betweene man and wif<^
and caused the wife to cut her husband's throat : that
was well done said the master, thou shalt be well re-
warded for thj labour. Then foorth came another
Seyill named Pownesnest, and said. Sir, I have caused
two olde women to fight so sore together, and to be^t
each other about the head, that their eyes fiew out :
that was well done said the master Deyill, with muoih
thanke thou shalt be well rewarded for thy labour.
Then foorth went !Frier Bush freshly, and with a good
courage, and said : Sir, I am in a religious place, and I
governe the priour and his covent as I will myselfe^
and they have me in great loye and fayour ; for I doe
them many great pleasures, and I have brought them
fiure wenches every man one when they lusl^ and diyera
times I have caused debate and strife to fall among
them, and I have made them staves, and caused them
to fight stifly together, and to breake each others headsi,
and thdur armes and legges, and yet will I doe more
among them ere I depart out of the place, for I shall
make so great debate and strife among them, and the
one shall flea the other, then they shall come and dwell
with us in hell, and bume in perpetuall fire without end.
Then said the maister Pevill to Bush, if thou have done
as thou hast said, thou hast done well thy part, and I
pray thee be diligent thy selfe about thy businesse, and
stirre them to sin, and specially to these three, that ia
to say, wrath, gluttony, and lechery, and briefely to
make an end of thy enterprise, and slip it not : and

OF FBIEB BUSH. 287

when thou hast done, come home, and thou shalt be
highly exalted and well rewarded for thy great labour
and paine. When S*ush had tolde his tale, the great
maister Devill commanded every Devill to goe his way
and doe the best he could, and thus they departed,
some went one way and some another, and thus they
were scattered abroad in the worlds to finish and make
an end of their enterprises that they had taken in hand*
And when the poore husbandman which sate in the
tree, sawe that all the Devills were departed and gone,
he reioyced in his heart and was right glad thereof, for
as long as they were there, hee was ever in great feare
and dread, and hee was afraid that they should have
seene him there, and ever he prayed unto almighty God
to be his guard, and save him £rom that foule and eviU
favoured company of Devils, and to send him the light
of the day that he were gone out of that place, for hee
was weary that hee aboade there so long, and oftentimes
he looked up, to see if hee could perceive any light of
the day whereby he might see to depart thence, for till
then he durst not once stirre out of that place, for he
jfeared that they had beene there still. Then within a
while after, the day began to appeare, and when hee
perceived that, anon he started up and looked round
about him abroade in the fields, and when he perceived
that there was nobody stirring he thanked almighty
God, that he was so preserved out of that great ieopardy,
and so departed.

288 ± Th^kSkVT HISTOBIB

How the Farmer which lay in the Tree came unto the
Priour on the morowe after, and tolde him the wordes
that hee had heard, and the words of Erier Bush,
and that he was a very Deyill.

As soone as the day began to apeare the poore Farmer
arose out of the tree, and tooke his way streight to the
Prioiir> and he would never rest till he had spoken with
him ; and when he was come to his speech, anon he
saide : Sir, this night hath fortuned to me a great ad-
venture : how so saide the Priour P sir, yesternight late
in the evening, I walked foorth in the fieldes to seeke a
cowe which I have missed this foure or five dayes, and
so long I wandered abroad, till at the last I foundethe
one halfe of my cowe, but the other halfe was gone ;
and as I woulde have returned home againe, I was be-
nighted, so sore that I lost my waye : then I wist not
whether to goe, but spying a hoUowe tree, I sate me
downe, thinking there to take my rest till the day
appered againe : and I had not sitten there but awhile,
but instantly there was assembled a great company of
Devills, which made a marvailous great noise, whereof I
was sore afrayd. They had among them a great master
named Lucifer, who called all the rest to make a reckon-
ing of all their service they had done since they departed
out of hell : there I heard many marveilous tales. At
the last, foorth came Frier Eush, then saide the great
master Lucifer unto him, Eush, what hast thou done
since thou departed out of hell P and he answered, that

or TBISB HUSH. 289

he had ruled you, and all your covent, and caused you,
to chide and fight, and were never in unitie and peace
among your selves : and he said he had caused you to
live viciously, and yet he saide he would doe more ere
he departed out of this place, for he will cause you to
kill each other, and then you should be damned in hell,
both bodie and soule. And so everie DeviU departed
and went about their busines. "Wherefore take heede,
for he is a verie DeviU. And when the Priour had heard
the wordes of the Farmer, he thanked him for his labor
and so they departed, the Farmer went home to his
house, but the Priour was marveilously abashed at the
words of the Farmer, and went into his chamber and
was much grieved in his harte that he had so leudly
misordered himselfe against his Lorft Ghod, and with
great contrition he kneeled downe upon his knees, and
asked almighty G-od mercie, and forgiveness for the
great and greevous offences that he had committed and
done against him, and that he had so vildly misused the
order of his religion. And when he had thus done, he
departed out of his chamber and went into the cloister,
and caused all his brethren to come together, and when
they were all assembled, the Priour told them everie
worde as the husbandman had told him, and that Bush
was a verie Devill, and no earthly creature ; at the which
they were sore astonished, and were right sorry in their
hartes, that they had followed him so much in his
minde, and done after his counsaile, and were heavy in
their heartes for their great and abhominable sinnes that
VOL. I. TJ

290 A PLEASANT HlflTOBIE

they had committed and done, and with great contrition
they kneeled downe upon their knees, and desired
almighty God for grace and pardon. Then the Priour
caused every man to fall to contemplation and praier.
Then foorth they went and did the Priours commaunde-
ment, and hriefely made them ready, and went to
prayer all at once^. And when they were come to the
middest of their service, the Priour departed out of the
church and went to the kitchin, wherin he found Bush
who was there verie busy ; then the Priour commaunded
him to stand still, and by vertue of almightie God and of
all the companie of heaven, he coniured Bush into the
likenes of a horse, and commaunded him to goe and
stand at the gate in the same place that he stood in
when he came thether first, and to stand there till ser-
vice was done : so foorth went Bush in the likenes of a
horse, and stood at the gate as the Priour had com-
maunded him. And when service was done, the Priour
and his brethren went to the gate to see what case Bush
was in ; and when they were come thether they found
him standing in the likenes of a horse. Then they
demaunded him to what entent he came into their place,
and why he taried there so long P Syrs said Bush, I
came hither to cause you to do all mischife as is afoie^
said, and yet I would have done more ere I had gone
hence ; for I would have caused you to slaye other, and
to be damned both bodie and soule. And when they
had heard the words of Rush, every man held up his
hands and thanked almighty God, that they had so well

OF FRIEB BirSH. 291

escaped that great misfortune. Then Eush desired the
Friour licence to depart theaee^ and promised that he
would never more come there, nor. doe any man more
hurt ; upon that condition the Priour gave him leave to
depart. Thus Bush departed from the place, and the
Friers went to their cloyster, and lived there solitarie
and chast ever after, and served almightie G^od better
than ever they did before.

The Lamentation that Bush made when hee was de*
parted out of the house of Beligion.

Whsn Bush was banished out of the house of Beligion,
and was turned into the same likenesse that he was,
then he wandred abroad in the worlde with an heavie
heart, and these words he said : Alas» alas, what shall
I doe, I wote not now whether to goe, for all my seven
yeres labour is lost. And as he wandred about, by
fortune he met with his master Lucifer, but he would
not have scene him by his will : nevertheles his maister
espied him quickly, and said to him Bush what tydings
with thee ? Sir said Bush, I have lost all my labouf
that I have gone about this vii. yeara. How so, saide
his Maister ? Sir, I shall shew you said Bush. The last
time that we were assembled together, there was a
poore man lay in an old tree hard beside us, and he
heard all that we said : and when we were departed, he
arose and went unto the Friour and shewed him all that
we saide, and specially the wordes that I had spoken,
and so all my labour is lost, and I am banished that place.

292 A PLEASANT HISTOBIS

Well, said the master Divell to Busb, thou shalt goe
some other way abrode, and looke if thou canst finde
any thing to doe : Then Eush walked about in the
country, and long it was ere he could get any service :
At last he fortuned to come unto a husbandmans house
which lacked a servant, where he was entertained, but
sore against the wifes consent. For this husbandmans
wife was a very faire woman, and she loved well the
parish Priest, and he loved her againe, in so much that
often times they made good cheere and banketted
together, and so continued and kept company together
a long time. Their meeting was so privie and so
secrete, that it was never knowen, and they sure enough
of the good man, for he was accustomed everie morning
to rise early and to goe farre into the field, and because
his wife would prevent his comming home to dinner,
she would alwaiies give him his victailes in a bagg with
him, and a bottell full of drinke, to the intent he should
tarie in the feeldes from morning to night : she would
not suffer him to keepe a servant or to have any manner
'of helpe : for she was afraide that if they should have a
servant, her secretes should be knowen, and the good-
man also feared that if he should take a servant, that he
would have but little lust to tarrie there : for the Devill
himselfe could not endure the chiding and brawling of
that woman : by which meanes she kept her husband
without a servant a long time : for she knew well, that
as long as her husband was in the feeld, the Priest and
she might have their meeting, but at length she was
deceived.

OF FEIEE RUSH. 293:

How Eush came to a Husbandman (labouring in the
Eield)and desired to bee entertained into his service.

Eush travailing up and down, came to a Husbandman
who was labouring in the field, being all alone, and
spake these wordes unto him ; Eest you merie sir, me
thinks you take great paines to worke so sore your selfe:
will it please you to entertaine a servant ? I am a poore
young man and am out of service, and I am very
willing to serve you if you please : and I trust to do©
you such service, as shall be to your good content •
The husbandman answered him, and saide; young man,
I would gladly give you entertainment, but my wife
vrill never be pleased with any servant that shall come
into my house: Sir said Eush let me alone, for I shall
so worke the matter, that my dame shall be well pleased
with me : well said the husbandman, tarry with me till
I have done my busines, and thou shalt goe home with
me; when he had finished his dayes worke, Eush went
home with him, they were no sooner come into the
house, but the wife espying Eush, she began to gloome
and to looke mervailous angerly at him : which the good
man perceiving, he said unto her, dame, I pray thee to
be contented, thou knowest well inough that I have
more labour to doe, then I am able to make an end of
alone, and therefore I have hyred this young man to
help me : when his wife heard those wordes, she was
more angry then before, and began to braule and scolde
as if the Devill had bene in her, and said unto him :

294 A FLXASjLKT histobie

what a vengance needest thou to take a servant ? thou
art able inough thy selfe to doe aUthebusines that we
hare to doe, and why should we take more charge upon
us then we are able to beare ? but I now perceive thou
art given to lazines, and hast Httle minde to work thy
selfe: when the good man heard her so highly displeasedy
he said, dame, I pray thee be contented, the young man
is honest, and he hath promised me to be a good ser-
vant ; yet for all these speeches she would not be paci-
fyed, but brawled still : when Eush perceived her great
impaciencie, he said unto her, dame I pray you be con-
tented, and be not angry with me, for you shall have no
cause, my master hath hyred me but for a while, upon
a tryall, and I trust, in that time, so to behave myselfe,
as to give you both content ; and when my time commeth
out, if you like my service you shall have it before any
other whatsoever ; if not, I will be very well content to
depart. When the wife heard Eush speake so resonably,
she pacifyed her selfe, and said no more ; which caused
the good man to be very glad, and so she set them to
supper, and as they sate at meate, Eush demanded of his
master what he should doe the next day P his master
answered, thou must rise early and goe to the field, and
make an end of that which I was about this day; (which
was a great dayes worke) so when they had supt they
went to bed. Early in the morning Eush arose and
went to the field, and wrought so lustily, that he had
done his worke betimes ; for when his master came to
bring him his breakfast, all his worke was finished.

OF FEIflB Bt7SH. 295^

whereat his master had great morvaile ; then they sate
downe to breakfast, which being ended they went home,
and did such thinges as were there to bee done ; when
his dame sawe that he had so soone ended his busines,
she thought that he was a profitable servant, and said
little but let him alone. In the evening Bush de-
maunded of his master what hee should doe the next
morrow ? his master appointed him twice so much as
hee did the day before, which Bush refused not, but got
up earely in the morning, and went to the field, and
about his worke ; so soone as his master was ready, he
tooke his man's breakfast and came to the field, thinking
to helpe Bush ; (but he was no sooner come from his
house but the Priest came to see his wife, and presently
shee made ready some good meate for them to be merry
withall, and whyle it was a dressing, they sate sporting
together, who had beene there should have scene many
loving touches.) And when the goodman came to the
field, he found that Bush had done all that which he
appointed, whereof he had great marvaile ; then they
sate downe to breakfast, and as they sate together.
Bush beheld his master's shoone, and perceived that for
fault of greasing they were very hard : then said Bush
to his master, why are not your shooes better greased?
I marvaile that you can goe in them, they be so hard,
have you no more at home ? Yes, said his master, I
have another payre lying under a great chest at home in
my chamber. Then said Bush I will goe home and
grease them that you may put them on to-morrow ; and.

296 A PLEASANT HISTOBI£

BO he walked homeward merrily and sung by the way^
And when he approached neare the house he sang out
very loude ; with that his dame looked out at the win-
dow, and perceived that it was her servant^ shee said
unto the Priest, alas, what shall we doe ? our servant is
come home, and my husband will not be long after, and
with that she thrust the meate into the oven, and all that
was upon the table. Where shall I hyde me said the
Priest ? Gtoe into the chamber, and creepe under the
great chest among the olde shoone, and I shall cover
you, and so he did. And when Sush was come into the
house his dame asked him why he came home so soone P
Bush answered and said, I have done all my busines,
and my master commaunded me to come home and
grease his shoone. Then he went into the chamber
and looked under the chest, and there hee found the
Priest, and he tooke him by the heeles and drew him
out, and said, thou whoreson Priest, what doost thou
heere ? With that, the Priest held up his hands and
cryed him mercy, and desired him to save his honesty,
and hee would never more come there ; and so Bush
let him goe for that once.

How Bush came home to make cleane the stable, and
how hee found the Priest under the maunger covered
with straw.

WiTHiK a while after this foresaid Priest began to
wax warme, and thought once againe to adventure
bimselfe and goe to the husbandman's house. When he

Of ERIEB BirsH. 297

perceived that the goodman and E^ush his servant was in

the field a labouring, hee went with all speed to the

house, and when he was entered, the wife said he was

welcome, and made ready a good dish of meate, and set

it on the table before the Priest, then shee drew drinke

and sate downe beside him ; who had beene there should

have scene many wanton toyes between them two, and

they had not sitten there long, but anon Eush came

singing homeward, and when she espyed him she was

abashed and wist not what to doe but thrust the meate

into the oven as she did before. Then said the Priest

where shall I hyde me ? come with me, said the wife,

into the stable, and creepe under the maunger, and I

shall cover you with straw, said tary there till he be

gone againe, and then she turned againe into the house

where she found Eush her servant, and anon she de-

maunded of him why he came home bo BOone ? Eush

answered, that he had done all his busines, and he was

come to make cleane the stable, and when the wife

heard that, shee was sorry in her heart, for she doubted

that he would finde the Priest againe. Then foorth

went Eush into the stable, and tooke a great forke in

his hand and began to shake up the straw : and when

he came to the heape that the Priest lay in, the which

seemed to him very great, yet neverthelesse with his

forke he took all up at once and bare it out of the doore,

and laide it on a great heape of mucke that lay there,

and with his forke he shaked the straw abroad, and

when hee had shaken out a little, anon he was aware of

298 A PLBABAKT HISTOBnB

the Priest'B gowne : then hee said, what a devill art
thou ? and with his forke he turned the heape, and then
hee perceived that the Priest was come againe : then
with his forke he gave him three or foure good dry
stripes and said, whoreson Priest, what dost thou heere P
thou promised me the last day never more to come
heere, and now I see thou art a false Priest, but now I
shall make an end of thee, and then shalt thou never
deceive me more. And when the Priest heard him say
so, he fell upon his knees and held up his hands, and
prayed Bush to save his honour once againe and he
would never come there more, and if he did then to doe
with him what he would.

Thus Bush let the Priest goe the second time.

How Bush came home and found the Priest in the
cheese-basket, and how hee trayled him about the
towne.

Then within a fortnight or three weekes afber the
Priest thought he was long absent from the husband-
man's wife. And though it should cost him his life yet
would he goe thither once again : and on a day he per-
eeivii^ the goodman was gone to the field, he tooke his
waye unto the house, and was so hasty, that as soone as
he was entred into the house, hee caught the wife and
would have imbraced her, but shee quickly got from
him againe, and went and prepared good cheare for him,
as shee was wont to doe ; for they thought themselves
sure enough for the time, but yet they were deceived :

or TBOiB BUSH. 299

For when the goodman was come to the field. Bush had
done all his business, then they sate downe, and brake
their fast with bread and cheese : and as thej sate eat-
ing, Eush spjed a hajre in the cheese, and then he said
to his master, I trow my dame would poyson us, or else
she washeth not the basket that the cheese lyeth in, be-
hold it is all full of haires, I willgoe home and wash the
basket and make it dean : so leaving his master in the
field and walking homeward, he sung merrily all the
way. And when he approached neare the house, the
wife knew his voyce and perceived that he was comming.
Then wringing her hands she said unto the Priest, goe
hyde you, or else you be but dead. "Where shall I hyde
me said the priest ? G-oe up into the chamber and leape
into the basket that hangeth out at the window, and I
shall call you when he is gone againe. Then anon in
came Eush and she asked him why he came home so
soone ? then said Eush, I have done all my busines in
the field, and my master hath sent me home to wash
your cheese-basket, for it is full of haires, and so he went
into the chamber, and with his knife he cut the rope that
the basket hung by, and downe fell Priest and all into a
great poole of water that was under the window : then
went he into the stable for a horse and rode into the
poole, and tooke the rope that hung at the basket, and
tying it to the horses tayle, rode through the poole
three or four times. Then he rode through the towne
to cause the people to wonder at him, and so came home
againe. And all this while he made as though he had

300 A PLEASANT HISTORIE

knowne nothing, but looking behinde him, espyed the
Priest. Then he alighted downe, and said unto him :
Thou shalt never more escape me, thy life is lost. With
that, the Priest held up his hands and said, heere is a
hundred peeces of gold, take them and let me goe. Sa
BrUsh tooke the golde and let the Priest goe. And when
his master came home, he gave him the halfe of his money
and bad him farewell, for he would goe see the world.

How S>ush became servant to a Grentleman, and bow the
Devill was coniured out of the body of the Gentle-
man's daughter.

Whek Bush was departed from the husbandman, he
went abroad in the countrey, to looke if he could find
any more adventures : and so long he travailed about,,
that at last he espyed a Gentleman's place, unto the
which he tooke his way. And when he was come thither,
as chance was, lie found the gentleman walking up and
down before his gate. And when Eush was approached
neare unto him, he put off his bonet and saluted him
saying : Best you merry good Gentleman : Welcome
said he : Sir, said Bush, I am a poore young man and am
out of service, and faine would I have a good master.
What countryman art thou said the Gentlemanand from
whence commest thou ? Sir, said Bush, I was borne
farre hence and many a myle have I gone to seeke a
good service, but none can I find. What canst thou doe
said the Gentleman, and what is thy name ? Sir said
Bush, I can doe any manner of thing that shall please

OF ^BIEE EUSH. 301

you to set me unto, and Bush is my name. Then said
the Q-entleraan unto him : Bush tarry heere with me,
and T will retaine thee into my service. When Bush
heard the Gentleman speake so, hee thanked him much
and tarryed there. Then as the Gentleman and Bush
went talking together, the Gentleman said imto him :
Bush thou hast travailed farre and gone through many
strange countries : canst thou shew me where to finde
any man, can coniure a spirit out of a woman's body ?
Sir, said Bush, why aske you me that question ? I shall
shew thee, said the Gentleman, I have a daughter which
is a faire young woman, but she is sore troubled in her
minde, and as I suppose shee hath some Divell withiti
her body. Sir, said Bush, I pray you let me see her,
and I trust speedily to finde remedy for her. Then the
Gentleman brought Bush into the place and shewed him
his daughter. And when he saw her he knew what she
had within her body : Anon he said unto the Gentleman,
sir there is remedy enough for this. Well said the Gen-
tleman, if thou canst finde me any that can helpe her
thereof, I will reward him well for his labour, and thee
also. Sir, I will shew you what is to be done, there is a
place of religion a forty or fifty miles hence, wherein I
was a servant a long time^ and the Friour is a cunning
man in that science : and I doubt not, but if he were
heere even now she should be holpen within this houre.
When the Gentleman heard the words of Bush, he re-
joyced in his heart and was full glad of that good tydings.
And on the morrow after, the Gentleman sent his servant

802 A PLSASAlfT HI8T0SIE

with his letters unto that house bf religion, desiring the
Priour to come and speake with him. When the Priour
had read the Gentleman's letters, and knew for what
cause he was sent for, he made him ready to ride with
the messenger. Then forth they rode, and the next day
they arrived at the Q-entleman's place. "When the Gen-
tleman understood that the Priour was come, he was
glad and went to the gate, and with great reverence he
received the Priour, and brought him into his place.
Then the Gentleman commanded his servant to fill a
cup of Wine, thiat the Priour and he might drinke to*
gether. And when they had drunke and refreshed
themselves well, they walked foorth into a faire garden,
and then they commoned together of many things, and
when they had finished all their communications, the
Gentleman said unto the Priour : Sir, the cause that you
be come hither is this. It is so, that I have a young
(Gl^entlewoman to my daughter which is grievously vexed
and troubled in herminde, andasi suppose she hath some
wicked spirit in her body, and sir, it was shewed me by
a servant of mine which was long servant in your place,
that you could helpe her. Sir said the Priour what is
his name P The Gentleman said his name is Sush. And
when the Priour heard his name hee knew him well
enough, and said unto the Gentleman, sir cause the gen-
tlewoman to come before me and I trust in Almighty
God, shortly to finde a remedy for her, and when the
Gentleman heard the Priour speake so, he was glad
in his heart, and commanded in all hast to bring foorth

OF FBXXB^BVSH. 303

his daughter before the Priour : and when she was come
into his presence, he commanded her to kneele downe
upon her knees, and also he commanded her father and
her mother, and all the company that were there
present, in likewise to kneele upon their knees, and praj
unto almighty God for the young Gentlewoman. And
then he himselfe said certaine prayers over her : then he
lifted up his hand and blessed her, and incontinent there
flew a great Devill out of her mouth. And the Priour
bound the Devill so, that never afber he came there.
Thus was the young Gentlewoman restored to her right
minde and health againe. Then the Gentleman would
have given to the Priour a great summe of money for his
labour, but he would take none, but said unto the Gen-
tleman : Sir, I have a new church in building, and I
lacke lead to cover the roofe : and as it is informed me,
this is a plentifull countrey thereof. Wherefore sir, if it
will please you to give me asmuch as shall serve me : I
and my brethern shall bee your dayly beadsmen, and you
shall be prayed for as long as the world endureth. Tee
shall have as much as shall serve you, said the Gentle-
man : But how will you doe for the carriage ? Well
inough said the Priour. Then the Gentleman brought
him to a great heape of lead, and bad him take asmuch
as would serve him. Presently the Priour called foorth
Eush and commanded him to take on his necke so much
lead as would cover his church, and bear it home, and
come againe quickly. So Eush tooke the lead on his
necke at once and carryed it home, and he was there

d04i 7BIEB BITBH.

againe within halfe an houre. Then the Priour tooke his

leave of the Grentleman and departed, commaunding

Bush to bring him home also. Then Bush tooke him

on his necke, and within one quarter of an houre he was

at home. Then the Priour coniured Bush again into his

owne likenesse, and commaunded him to goe into an

olde castle that stood farre within the forrest,

and never more to come out, but to

remaine there for ever. From

which Devill and all other

Devills, defend us

good Lord.

Amen.

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A Collection of English Prose Romances^

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Reynard the Fox^ after the German Version

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Richardson s {C.J.) Studies of Ornamental

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8 WORKS PUBLISHED BY NATFALI AND BOND.

Reynolds (Sir Joshua) Discourses on Paint-

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Swarbreck's {S. D.) Sketches in Scotland , 2G

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ThugSj or Secret Murderers of India. Il-
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Turner s Southern Coast of England. An

Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour by Land and Sea, round
the Southern Coast of England, illustrated with Eighty-four
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Owen, W. Westall, Prout, and others, engraved by George
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Wallace's (Wm.) History of the Life and

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Walter s (Rev. Henry) History of England^

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Westwood's {J. O.) Cabinet of Oriental En-

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Woodcock's {Hev. W. J.) Scripture Lands;

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